I seem to be on a roll with this story. Thank you everyone for the reviews, and for sticking with this story thus far. I know it's painful to read at times, but this story has really taken on a life of its own, and it just comes out that way.

But after 8 chapters, we have finally come to the moment. I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


You run away, cause I am not what you found

You're in my veins, and I cannot get you out

- In My Veins, Andrew Belle.


For the second time in two months, Lisa Cuddy found herself in PPTH.

"Lisa, I've been admitted for further tests in PPTH. The doctors said it would be better if you were here. Can you come?"

"Oh God. I'll drive over right now. Which room?"

"263."

Room 263. The blinds were drawn, and she couldn't see through the glass walls. She stood outside the room, pausing momentarily, bracing herself to deal with her mother.

She didn't see Arlene sitting some distance away at the waiting area, half-obscured by a pillar, watching her daughter.

Taking a deep breath, she yanked open the sliding door.


James Wilson sat by House's bedside, making his way through the paperwork that had piled up over the past few days while he had been trying to keep House out of the hospital. His tie was askew, and his shirt was wrinkled.

The numbers and words started to blur, and Wilson felt his eyelids start to droop.

He shook his head to clear his mind. Shifting in his seat, he glanced over at House, who was asleep with his mouth slightly open. The rattle of his lungs seemed almost deafening in the room; each snuffle, each cough, each fight to draw breath a painful reminder to Wilson of how so very close they were cutting it.

House shifted on the bed, hand unconsciously moving towards his back. Wilson recognized it as a sign of pain, the backache that was a constant now. He got up and adjusted the pillow behind the small of House's back.

House stirred. "Wilson."

"Hi," Wilson smiled, "Don't talk, just sleep now, okay? The meds are working. We'll have you out of here soon."

"I saw… Ar – " House didn't get to finish his sentence. Wilson rubbed House's back as he coughed, and as it eased, helped settle House back down.

"Make sure… she doesn't… tell…" mumbled House as he drifted off into sleep again.

Wilson was confused. Who did House see? But seeing how House was soundly asleep, he didn't pursue the matter, and sank back down in the recliner. He lowered his head into his hands. Just a short nap.

The sounds of heels clacking frantically outside the room, and of the door sliding open abruptly halted his descend into sleep.


"Mom, how are you…"

Cuddy's words were forgotten as she caught sight of the bed's occupant. She stood, transfixed at the sight in front of her, not quite believing what was in front of her eyes.

"Cuddy?" Wilson leapt to his feet, alarmed. "What are you… Who told you..."

"Lisa."

Cuddy spun around, and saw her mother. Standing hale and hearty behind her. Not lying in a hospital bed.

Wilson's eyes widened further. "Arlene?"

"M-mom? What kind of… is this some joke?" Cuddy spluttered.

"We need to talk," Arlene said simply. She stood there, unwavering.

Wilson glanced down back at House, who was still asleep. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down to prevent his blood pressure from going through the roof. This was falling apart by the minute. He walked over to the two Cuddy women.

"Outside. Now."

He ushered the Arlene and Cuddy out the door, and gently shut the door behind them. He glanced in to check. House hadn't even stirred.

He spun around to face Arlene, hands on his hips.

"You met House," he said flatly. "He mentioned meeting someone, but I didn't know who. Till now."

"Yes." Arlene was calm. As she had waited for her daughter to arrive, her conviction had only grown stronger; she knew she had made the right choice. She was absolutely sure.

Cuddy gazed at the room's door, still unable to speak. She couldn't see inside the room thanks to Wilson's careful positioning of himself between her and a direct view of the bed, but she couldn't take her eyes off the door. Gathering herself together, she gestured wildly at her mother. Her infuriating mother.

"Mom, what is the meaning of all this? I rushed down from the hospital because you told me you were admitted. You. Not him. You can't play games like that!"

"It was the only way to get you here."

"Oh my God. Mother, you really are – "

"House is sick, Lisa."

"Yes, I can see that. Because I practically stumbled into his room, expecting to see my own mother!"

"I thought you should know."

Cuddy took in a deep breath, and counted to ten in her head. She steeled her heart to say the words she knew she didn't really believe. Not when she, in that split moment, had seen how... sickly he looked. She didn't believe it, but she still had to say it.

"Mom. I moved away to New York to get away from all of this madness. He's been hospitalized countless times. This is just like any other. Why would I –"

"Ask Dr Wilson what House has."

"I don't need to know. I'm going back home, Mom, this is some insane game of yours and I'm not playing."

"Ask him, Lisa." Arlene said firmly, her eyes flashing.

Seeing the steely look in her mother's eyes, Cuddy knew she had no way out.

She sighed, and turned to look at Wilson, who had his palms shoved into his eyes and rubbing at his face. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, and tried to wake himself up from this nightmare, Cuddy and Arlene would disappear from his sight and this would not be happening.

Cuddy scrutinized Wilson, who looked exhausted and disheveled.

"What's going on, Wilson?" He was after all, her friend. And House was after all… occupying some small space in her heart that she had shoved somewhere and hidden safely, as hard as she tried to deny it.

Reluctant to reveal the entire truth, Wilson stuck to a half-truth. Though he had a niggling suspicion that Arlene knew everything.

"It's just a bout of pneumonia," he huffed, "The meds are working, he's getting out in a few days. Everything's fine."

Cuddy was about to open her mouth to tell her mom See, everything's fine. This is a waste of my time but Arlene cut her off.

Arlene glared at Wilson. She saw a devoted best friend who was taking extremely good care of House, but she couldn't let him continue to hide the truth anymore.

"Tell her the truth, Dr Wilson."

"It… it is the truth."

Wilson was never a very good liar.

Arlene rolled her eyes, and decided to take matters into her own hands. "Greg is Dr Wilson's patient."

Cuddy didn't understand the implications of the statement at first. "So what? Wilson has been prescribing for House for years, and he's been the attending each time House has been - "

"You're not listening, Lisa. Greg is undergoing treatment. Dr Wilson is his physician."

Cuddy opened her mouth to refute her mother, but suddenly, like a bright light cutting through the fog, the truth dawned upon her. And it cut into her, painfully.

"I think you and Dr Wilson need to have a good chat."

With that, Arlene pushed past Wilson, and entered House's room. She closed the door behind her firmly, making it clear that the two of them were not to enter again until they had talked.

Wilson tried to be angry with Arlene, really. But all he found in himself was a regret that he hadn't been able to bring himself to make the difficult choice. And a sense of relief that the cat was finally out of the bag. That he didn't have to carry the burden of hiding from Cuddy the truth anymore.

Cuddy turned to him, her voice soft uncertain. "What's going on, Wilson?"


Wilson found himself leading Cuddy to his office. As he shut the door, he felt something in him crack.

The dam was breaking.

He tried as hard as he could to prevent it all from bursting out all at once, but he found that the trickle led to a steady stream, to a gush, and it all came spilling out of him. House beaten up in jail, picking House up, House disappearing for a year, the symptoms, the night he found out, how House initially didn't want treatment, the bad days, the good days, how the team was reacting and helping out…

Wilson couldn't stop.

It all came tumbling out like how a vessel too full had fallen apart, and all its hidden contents were crashing out into the open for all to see. He choked up. His voice wavered. He stumbled over his words, the truth rushing to escape from him, having been withheld for too long.

Cuddy found herself unable to process everything. Wilson's words seemingly floated over her, not really making an impact. She felt numb, cocooned in her own world.

"The previous time… I came back. He was…"

"That time… he had collapsed after diagnosing his patient." Wilson shook his head. "Fatigue, low blood cell counts… And he still diagnosed her correctly."

Cuddy's mind flashed back to their meeting – she had thought House looked unwell, and attributed it to ageing and his drug use; on hindsight, she really should have known better. How he had been in wheelchair, said no to the coffee, and barely eaten any of his Reuben. How she sensed something had been amiss.

Cuddy slumped on the couch, overwhelmed.

"Did… did he say why he didn't want me to know?"

Wilson could almost laugh at that. There were so many reasons. He looked out his balcony door at the setting sun, murmuring. "It depends on what kind of day it is…"

"What do you mean?"

"On a bad day, he says he deserves it, and he would rather not give you the satisfaction of… of seeing him suffer. Or he says he can't bear to see you because that hurts him more. And he won't be able to take it when you leave again. If it's a good day for him… he says he doesn't need you, doesn't deserve you, doesn't want to inflict pain on you… That you're happy and you don't need to know. That as long as you're happy, he's okay… he's happy for you. "

"I… I… Oh God, Wilson. I don't know what to say."

He turned to smile at her - a sad, knowing smile.

"What you say doesn't matter. The question is, what now?"


She stood outside the room, just next to the nurses' station. Where House used to stand to watch his own patients. Invisible from the patient's viewpoint, but providing a perfectly clear view of what goes on in the room.

The blinds were open now; she could see everything. Wilson slipped into the room, and sat down next to Arlene. They spoke quietly for a while, and it ended with Arlene patting Wilson on the arm.

Cuddy leaned her forehead against the pillar, and closed her eyes. The past two hours had been overwhelming and just unbelievable, and she felt exhausted with the weight that had been placed on her shoulders.

"Lisa."

Arlene came to stand beside Cuddy, who opened her eyes and straightened herself.

"Mom."

"Dr Wilson told you everything."

"Yeah."

They watched House wake up, and smile slightly at the sight of Wilson. Then he began coughing. He sat up slowly with Wilson's help and leaned over the table as Wilson began to thump gently on his back.

He was… weak.

And it unnerved Cuddy, because for the past twenty years, she had been dealing with a force of nature – formidable, larger than life. Always browbeating his way through, hiding his true emotions and pain behind a façade of brick and stone, too afraid to let anyone through to see his weakness and his vulnerability. And now… he was accepting help from Wilson, and his team. Willingly and not pushing them away.

Arlene broke the silence. "What are you going to do?"

"I… I don't know."

"I didn't tell you what he told me," mused Arlene. "I asked him, Greg, are you going to die without reconciling with the woman you love?"

"Mom…" Cuddy wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

"He said, She's happy. That's all that matters."

The older woman's words hung in the air. They both knew very well what he meant by that.

"I'm not sure what to do… I don't know if I can come back."

"Why not?"

"He could have killed Rachel. He could have killed me. He drove his car and practically destroyed my house. He's the reason I had to leave this place I've worked in for the past twenty years."

"He's paid his dues. He's been to jail - "

"Sometimes you just can't forgive and forget. It's impossible."

"It's not impossible, it's just difficult. And you love him."

"No… No I don't. Not anymore." But the very expression on Cuddy's face negated that statement. And then, as if saying it again would convince herself and make it the truth, she repeated, "I don't love him anymore."

"I can see it in you, Lisa. You do. You're a stubborn woman who insists on getting perfection. You can't accept loving a man as flawed as Gregory House."

"It's not wrong to seek someone I can rely on and count on."

"And have you found that man yet? Because as far as I can tell, you aren't in a relationship with said perfect man yet." Arlene sniped, getting impatient with her daughter's hesitation.

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"I'd never seen you so happy with anyone other than Greg. Why can't you just reconcile the fact that you don't need a perfect man to be happy?"

"He's more than not perfect. I can list all his flaws and probably need more than my fingers and toes!"

Arlene exhaled heavily. Her daughter had inherited her own mule-headedness. "For goodness' sake, Lisa. I know I've pushed you hard to succeed in life. Perhaps too harshly – "

She ignored Cuddy's odd look at the fact that she was actually admitting a mistake. Which never happened.

Arlene ploughed on, " - But for once, just once in your life, follow your heart. Stop letting your head get in the way, stop seeking that perfection that quite frankly, no one possesses."

Cuddy buried her head in her hands. "I don't think I can forgive him, Mom," Cuddy whispered harshly, "Not when he hurt me. I'm happy now… I'm not sure I can come back to this."

Seeing how her daughter was on the verge of tears, Arlene softened, and led her to a bench. Placing her arm around her daughter, she said gently, "You hurt him too. You dumped him over one pill when he was a recovering drug addict. And you, as a doctor, should have known that relapses are bound to have occurred. You were too harsh."

Cuddy dropped her eyes to the ground. She knew all that, but it didn't make it any easier hearing it from someone else, especially from her mother.

"Don't take the easy way out, Lisa. Don't run away."

Her word reminded Cuddy of the words she herself had told House. You've always taken the easy way out. But this time, he hadn't. He had chosen to let her be happy, instead of telling her the truth and getting her to come back to him.

The irony of her words and the whole situation was absolutely cruel. She shouldn't have said that. His job was to cure the incurable, diagnose the most difficult cases. And to do that meant that he never took the easy way out. Those were words she had spit out in a fit of anger when she thought he was taking Vicodin. But those pills he had taken… they were probably necessary. Prescribed legitimately. Not for his addiction. And despite her accusation, he didn't deny that they were Vicodin, nor clarify that it wasn't.

"I need it for my pain."

That was what he had said. He had chosen to be ambiguous, to let her think that he was still a miserable drug addict.

He chose to let her go.

Cuddy closed her eyes, and bit her lips as she finally understood everything that had gone on that day.

"But all we've done to hurt each other…"

"It doesn't matter now, Lisa," Arlene sighed as she turned to look into the room, where Wilson was helping House settle back into the bed again. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Cuddy followed her mother's gaze, and looked at the man who had given her happiness and bliss for one year until it had all come crashing down.

Her mother was right. It didn't matter anymore.

That was why House had chosen to hide his illness from her. Because illness, and the prospect of death, had the power to bring people together. It was a false notion that all humans took comfort in – that if they were to unite, to make each other happier, to fight it together… maybe they wouldn't have to face death.

All harsh words, all stupid actions, all hurt and pain caused… They were all insignificant in the face of death. That was why in the moments before death, family and friends come together. Enemies make peace with one another. And if you were alone, a random stranger would be willing to sit with you so you wouldn't be alone. Because nothing mattered anymore.

And House knew all that. Instead of doing what so many others would have done, he was punishing himself for all that he'd done to her. He would rather leave without seeing her again, than to force her to come back to him, and to burden her.

It was his way of loving her.

Cuddy began to cry in earnest now.

She hated how she still loved him. It was like he was in her very veins. Because now it began to hurt again, when in New York, it didn't. It hurt to know that he was sick, and there was nothing they could do about it. Wilson was trying his best, but sometimes trying your best just wasn't good enough. And it definitely hurt to know that their relationship was so screwed up that… that it required something like cancer to bring them back together again.

Most of all, it hurt so much more now that she had decided what she was going to do.

Because she was going to open herself up to more hurt, more sadness, more pain by coming back to him. Not because of him, and what he would do. No, because she was going to have to watch the man she loved fade away.

Arlene's arm tightened around her daughter.

"I… I really was happy with him, Mom. So happy."

"I know."

"But now… I'm scared of what's to come."

"I know. And that's perfectly normal." Arlene rubbed her daughter's shoulder. "But you two still have time. Make it count. Be happy together."

Cuddy leaned into her mother. She hadn't been in her mom's embrace quite this way for perhaps the past twenty, maybe even thirty years. Arlene had never quite been the cuddly or encouraging type. Which made this whole moment all the more precious and incredible for Cuddy.

"You're strong, Lisa," murmured Arlene. "If you can run a whole hospital, you can find your way back to him again. Just follow your heart."

Cuddy disengaged herself from her mother's embrace, and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mom."


Cuddy sat next to his bed and waited.

He woke, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and his blue eyes slowly revealed themselves.

And she found herself reaching towards him, slipping her hand into his. It seemed so much smaller than she remembered it to be.

Six years. Six years since they last touched each other. Even when she had come back just a month back, she didn't touch him. She had hugged Wilson, embraced her colleagues and friends, but she had stood in front of House, sat in front of him, had the most intense conversation with him… And not touched him, a single time. No hug, no handshake.

She could feel the tremble of his hands. He didn't initiate further contact, didn't squeeze her hand, and didn't even dare move.

She didn't know it was because he had dreamed of this moment for the past few months, maybe even years. That he would somehow find his way back into her life again, and that she would forgive him and reach out to him, even though he knew he didn't deserve it at all.

And he was afraid to really touch her, only to have her leave him behind again, lost and floundering.

"Cuddy," he breathed.

She smiled. A real, genuine smile. The same smile that had captured his heart so many years ago. Like when all was good.

"Hi."

He frowned, and murmured, "You've been crying."

And he reached up towards her face. He hesitated. He didn't want her to draw away from him. But very slowly, his hand trembling, he used the pad of his thumb to rub at her cheek, wiping away the trail of tears that had not quite dried yet. And she let him.

He felt like his heart was breaking. It reminded him of how much he loved her and wanted her by his side again. He withdrew his hand quickly.

"Why are you here?"

She squeezed his hand, and then let go, and stood up.

For a moment, his heart stopped. She was going to leave. He closed his eyes. He couldn't handle seeing her walk away from him again, not when he had come so close to her this time.

But then the hospital bed sank slightly, and then she was sitting on the bed, in front of him.

"To see you."

House closed his eyes and tried to decide on what to do. Her, in front of him, in the flesh, made him reconsider his resolution to let her be happy without knowing the truth. But he couldn't be selfish. He couldn't give her the burden, not when he had already shared it with Wilson, who was suffering because of him. He was silent.

"I know everything."

"It's just pneumonia. I'm not dying or anything."

At the words I'm not dying, Cuddy felt the tears well up in her eyes again. "I said everything."

"There is nothing else to know." He turned his head away from her, knowing that his eyes would betray the truth. He had no energy left to continue putting up his walls anymore. Everything would be laid bare.

She leaned in, and gently turned his face towards her own.

"Don't lie to me, House. Just… don't. It doesn't matter anymore, not when I know everything."

He reluctantly raised his eyes to look into hers. He had missed her eyes, and the warmth they held.

He dropped his gaze and muttered, "Arlene told you. And then Wilson probably blabbed too."

"They were right to do so."

He needed to drive her away, not suck her into his web of illness and despair. He choked out the words that were probably the greatest untruth he had ever told. "I don't need you here, Cuddy."

But she knew what he was doing. He had done it too many times for it to work now. Driving others away was what he did all the time, but this time, she wasn't going to let him drive her away. She took his hands into hers, and squeezed them.

"Maybe I need you. Maybe we both need each other."

He was honestly stunned at the fact that she could possibly need him. But she didn't deserve him. Not after all he'd done. Lisa Cuddy deserved so much more than a man like him, and a life with him. Especially at this point. Who knew how much longer he had?

"I don't deserve you, Cuddy. Not when I've – "

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"It does. You can't just ignore the fact that – "

"It doesn't. It really doesn't matter anymore," she insisted. "I love you, House. Enough to want to forgive you despite your insane actions, and to want to be with you." Her voice cracked as she recalled what Wilson told her. "I would never... I would never wish this upon you. I can't believe you hid this from me."

"I don't want you to come back or forgive or love me because I'm dying… That's an obligation, a guilt complex thing," he persisted defiantly, not giving up. There was too much at stake. He couldn't let her back in, just like that.

"Don't. Don't try to drive me away. Because this is hard for me too, and I really might leave if you keep trying to do so."

All the fight seemed to leave him, and he slumped back onto the bed. He was too tired of driving her away when each night all he wanted was to have her next to him again. He was fucking scared. He had fucking cancer. All he wanted was to have her come back again, so he could find comfort in her, draw strength from her, love her and be with her.

"I do love you," he whispered brokenly, "I always have. But that doesn't mean I deserve to be with you. Because I've – "

She placed her fingers on his lips, shutting him up. "Then nothing else matters. The past doesn't matter. Not at this point. Not anymore."

House looked at her, and tried to understand her motivations for doing something so huge and so difficult. He couldn't fathom how she could do it. How she could love a man like him. How she could just ignore all that had happened. Because he couldn't even forgive himself.

But he was tired of being without her. Of being unselfish and letting her be happy without him, even though it killed him. Being unselfish and self-sacrificing was too tiring and way too over-rated.

He pushed himself up, and moved towards her, struggling slightly. And he placed his head on her shoulder, leaning into her, inhaling deeply at her scent. Her arms found their way around his thin frame, and she embraced him.

He couldn't quite believe where he was right now. In her arms. Even though he was undeserving and had hurt her so many times, she had once again forgiven him, and come back. She was saving him from himself yet again, as she had done so many times before. He had thought he had used up all his chances with her. But oh god, she was actually here.

And he smiled, because he felt unbelievably happy. That he had actually lucked out and gotten that one last chance with her despite all the shit he had done.

He had given up, really. He didn't even really care for his job anymore. The team was good. He had trained them well. He had been holding on for Wilson, but really, he was just waiting for the day he could leave everything behind.

But now… now he felt alive again, more alive than he had felt in the past six years. Which was of course the greatest irony possible, since he was dying.

And so he laughed. A soft chuckle, but definitely a laugh.

She heard and felt him laugh. She had rarely heard him laugh before, even when they were together, and this one was carefree and joyful. Knowing that she was the reason he was laughing, she smiled too. Because quite unexpectedly in this moment, she found herself not afraid of what was to come. She was happy here with him, in this moment.

As his laughter faded away, she became aware of the rattle in his lungs and his chest rising and falling sharply; the exhaustion permeating every single bone in his body. His body was working in overdrive to fight off the pneumonia, and he was spent from their conversation. He was so thin, so weak.

She settled him back onto the bed, and held his hand as he drifted off to sleep again. He didn't let go of her hand; it was as if he was afraid to lose her again if he were to let go.

When she was sure he was deeply asleep, she cried.