Maladroit

by Clark-G

She felt guilty and always had. She was just helping out a friend with his pain which, to some degree, was her fault. That was the only way she could reconcile sitting on the floor of his office with him, leaning in such a way...

10. L'Odyssée

Disclaimer: The House characters aren't mine, I don't use 'em for profit. They belong to FOX and David Shore.

A/N: So, this fiction is coming to a close. This isn't the last chapter. I might have two more after this. But I just wanted to say that I love each and every review I've received and they've been really encouraging to me. So much so, that as of right now, I plan to continue to write here, as my schedule permits. Whether that means a sequel to this story or a separate story altogether, I don't know. We'll see. But thank you to everyone who took the time to review and to tell me what worked and what you liked. I did take those things into consideration. And thank you to Pippa who has been my rock and my friend and, most importantly in this venue, my editor. Everybody wave hello to Pippa. Without her, this would not be possible. I love you, girl. Anyway, this is too long. I just really hope you enjoy this long, ridiculous chapter that was so much fun to write.

xxxx

Cuddy sat at the counter in Kellerman's kitchen wearing one of his large button-up shirts. Kellerman watched her blowing on her cup of coffee and his eyes traveled down to her bare legs, which had a golden glow in the warm sunlight of his kitchen. The image he saw before him was picture perfect and in that instant, scrambling eggs at his stove, he knew it was exactly what he wanted.

"I like this."

"What?" She asked, with her eyebrows raised.

"You here. Drinking coffee. Wearing my shirt." She chuckled.

"I like it too," she smiled warmly.

"I know this is irrational," he sifted the cooking eggs around in the frying pan with his spatula. "But I think I am falling in love with you," her eyes widened and she nearly choked on the sip she'd just taken. He continued before she spoke. "It's really soon, I know. But I look at you and I think: 'I could do this for a long time'. And I don't mean to put any pressure on you, you don't have to do anything but eat my eggs and drink my coffee. And have sex with me," he smiled. She smiled back at him; he was adorable: practically perfect. "And don't feel like you need to say anything back to me, my feelings aren't conditional or dependant on how you feel. I don't want you to just tell me what I want to hear so just-"

"Ethan," she said firmly, getting his attention. "I don't know how I feel," her voice was firm. "But I think maybe love is a possibility," she smiled coyly. "Down the road. Give me time." Her words seemed to satisfy him. They both settled back into where they'd been before the 'love' bomb dropped. Cuddy sighed into her coffee. When he looked at her she smiled.

"You want to have lunch with me today?"

"Oh, I can't today; I'm having a business lunch with Doctor Wilson."

"How about dinner?"

"Okay," she smiled.

xxxx

In the hospital, House sat at his desk and Wilson sat in an adjacent chair.

"House, if anything happens to my car-"

"I'm not making any promises." Wilson just sighed, sitting back in the chair in front of House's desk. House sounded a lot better than he had for the past few days. House stared into the almost completely faded purple and yellow bruising below Wilson's eye. The corner of house's mouth curled almost into a smile at the memory of how it got there. They sat in silence for a few moments until a shrill ring startled them. Wilson recognized it as the ringing of a cell phone. It came from one of House's desk drawers.

"Are you going to answer that?" He asked, confused.

"It's not mine," House shrugged. Wilson looked even more confused. House opened the drawer, taking the phone out and looked at the caller ID. "Ethan," he read with a smile.

"Is that- You stole Cuddy's phone?!" Wilson instinctively looked around, to make sure no one was nearby.

"Yep," House answered, pleased with himself.

"Why?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"So she can't use it," House said, as if this were obvious information. "I don't want her to be able to call for help." Wilson just sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"House, you better not screw this up. She'll never trust me again."

"That'll make two of us," House stated, silencing the ringing phone. They sat back in silence for a second before Wilson looked down at watch.

"It's about time for lunch," he said, standing. House simply smiled at him, watching him walk out of his office.

Wilson went to his office to retrieve his coat and scarf then took the elevator downstairs and walked to Cuddy's office. He opened her door, poking his head inside.

"You ready to go?" He asked her.

"Yeah," she answered, looking down, gathering several files.

"I'll drive," he said, opening the door for her. She nodded, grabbing her coat and following him out. "I'm parked in front," he said as they walked to the front door.

"Shit," she said, turning around once they were outside. "I forgot the list of oncology expenditures from last year."

"Don't worry about it," he said, grabbing her arm. "I've got a copy," she looked down at his hands in confusion. "My briefcase is in my car," he explained quickly. She nodded hesitantly and followed him out to his parking space. He unlocked his car remotely with his keys and walked to the passenger door and opened it for her.

"Thank you," she said eying him suspiciously. When she got in the car, he closed the door and she plopped her purse on her lap, and started sifting through the items inside of it. She heard the car door open and saw him slide into the car from the corner of her eye but was distracted by her missing item. "Shit, I think I left my phone in my office," she said, still rummaging through her purse. Then she heard the click of the locking mechanism and her head shot up to look at him and she was astounded to see House sitting there next to her.

"No you didn't," he smiled before quickly starting the car and screeching out of the parking space. It took Cuddy a moment to find her bearings and she turned around to see Wilson standing in the parking lot, getting smaller in the distance as they sped away.

"House!" She yelled, her eyes still wide with surprise. "What are you doing?!"

"We need to talk," House said calmly, turning the wheel as they left the parking lot.

"No we don't! Stop this car!" She was yelling and looking around frantically. "House!"

"We need to talk," he repeated.

"You said you were done, House. You said you'd stop."

"That was before."

"Before what?!"

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"We are talking!"

"You're yelling," House said evenly.

"Oh my god," she said in an irritated tone. She slumped back in her seat. "This is kidnapping. You are kidnapping me."

"Maybe someone should call the police."

"I'm assuming you took my phone."

"Look, Cuddy, I'm not doing this to piss you off or to upset you. I just want to be able to talk to you without you screaming at me or running away."

"I don't run away, House. I'm not a child."

"I know that," he said sincerely.

"I'm not talking to you about this anymore, House. I'm not," she said shaking her head and crossing her arms.

"Fine, then just listen."

"Stop this car and let me out."

"Just hear me out."

"No! House, you can't just force me to listen or to talk to you."

"I'm pretty sure I can," he said with a sly smile. She let out a frustrated groan.

"House," she began, trying to sound calm. "If you don't pull over right now-"

"You'll do what?" He asked, not trying to sound antagonistic but merely trying to highlight the fact that all her efforts would be fruitless. She just sighed again, shaking her head.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere," he answered.

"House," she began warningly.

"Really, I'm not taking you anywhere. Just driving."

"You can't do this!" she shouted, her frustration returning. "I have a job, I have a meeting today, I can't just disappear for a couple hours, House."

"Wilson took care of all of that," House said nonchalantly. "You've had a family emergency."

"I can't believe you talked him into doing this for you. I am going to kick his-"

"It was his idea," House stated plainly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"What?" she asked incredulously. "Why?" House just shrugged. Though he had a feeling as to what the reason was. He thought back on when Wilson had approached him with the idea a couple days before in his apartment. He'd heard a knock on his door and was slow at answering it. He had taken more Vicodin than usual and had drank too much already, even though it was only eight. He answered the door in no mood for Wilson's usual load of analytical crap.

"You look like hell," Wilson had said, stepping into House's apartment. House didn't say anything; he had nothing to say. He wasn't himself. "You just going to drink yourself to death?"

"That's the plan," House said, turning to go plop back down on his couch. "She'll be so embarrassed then won't she?" he said, attempting a joke but it fell flat, his usual playful tone was gone.

"House, don't do this to yourself." Wilson had said firmly. "Don't do this to her."

"Fuck her," House's head fell back against the cushions of his couch.

"House," Wilson began again, looking at his friend sympathetically. He almost wanted to smile, seeing house heartbroken. It was nice to be reminded he had a heart. "You don't mean that," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I do," he laughed. "Fuck her and fuck him."

"House she's only-"

"I thought she was just trying to get my attention. Make me apologize or," he let the sentence trail off. "But she actually chose that guy over me," he laughed at his own misery.

"Because you acted like an ass," Wilson stated. House's head rolled lazily against the cushions to look at Wilson. "Look, House, I told her that leaving you was a good idea." Wilson looked down, feeling guilty. House's head shot up to look at Wilson.

"What?" House squinted at Wilson through the blur of his drunken state. "You did what?"

"I told her that she was right to leave you," Wilson repeated reluctantly, trying to think of the best way to explain before House became too irrational, but as he saw House rise to his feet he immediately began to step backwards away from his good friend. "House," he began calmly with his hands out defensively. He was backed against the piano. "I was just saying that-" Wilson's words were interrupted by the shear force with which House's fist met his face. He stumbled backwards against the large black instrument. House stumbled a bit too, too drunk to stand up strait. House fell backwards onto the couch and immediately reclined into a lying down position.

"Get out," House spat out.

"House!" Wilson said, his hand over his cheek bone, his fingertips assessing the damage. "She loves you." House became slightly alert but did not look at his friend.

"Oh yeah? On what do you base that astute assessment? Her dumping me?" House said sadly.

"Yes! She told me that before you fooled around with Amy she was getting complacent, that she was thinking she could be your-" Wilson tried to think of the best words. "-Your fuck buddy if that was all you had to offer. That she would take whatever you would give her. But you being with my assistant made her realize that it was a mistake. That it wasn't enough. I told her she was right. It wasn't." Wilson's voice was excited but House's face showed that he wasn't following. "You being with my assistant made her realize how much she loves you. I think that scared her and I think she ran. That and she was also extremely pissed at you." House seemed to understand but didn't respond. "I was telling her that was right to want something else. You needed a wake-up call and she gave it to you. But you didn't handle it very well."

"And how was I supposed to handle it?"

"You were supposed to prove to her that you loved her. You were supposed to show her that she could take a chance on you."

"She started dating Ethan," he said his name mockingly. "She made it clear she wanted me out of her life."

"Did you ever once tell her you loved her?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because." House was too intoxicated to care if he sounded like a kid. "I don't."

"Don't," Wilson said angrily. "Don't even." Wilson didn't need to explain himself. House sat up on the couch. "Look at yourself. Of course you love her." House looked down at the floor. "But you couldn't even tell her that. Why should she stop seeing Ethan if you won't even tell her how you feel?" House sat thinking for a few moments.

"Well, it's too late now," he said, trying to sound casual, flipping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I don't think it is."

"She won't listen to anything I have to say," House said, still looking down. Wilson thought for a few moments.

"Then make her listen."

"Yeah? And how do you propose I do that?"

"I have an idea," Wilson smiled lightly.

Keeping his hand on the steering wheel, House reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out his bottle of Vicodin, he flipped the top up with his thumb and brought the bottle to his mouth, swallowing two pills. Cuddy watched him carefully, seeing how many he'd taken before turning back to look out of the window. House never answered as to why Wilson had helped him. They both knew why. Cuddy turned to look out of the window.

"Where are we going?" She asked him again, hoping for a different answer this time.

"I don't know," he answered. "But I've got a full tank of gas," he smirked. She sighed deeply.

"I really don't understand what you're hoping to accomplish with this," she said with her arms crossed. House sighed as well, knowing that he'd have to come to that eventually. It may as well be now.

"I love you." House said it with wrinkles in his brow and his head ducked down timidly. He held his breath waiting for her response. He glanced over to see her reaction. Her eyes were wide and twinkling in the sun and her mouth was slightly ajar. She didn't look at him. He glanced back to the road then back at her, he could practically see her heart getting ready too leap out of her chest and onto the dashboard, mirroring his own. She showed no signs of speaking and he turned his head back to the road permanently. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Okay," she said very reluctantly. "Will you take me back now?"

"That's it?" he asked, trying not to sound too angry.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy's brain was scrambling, trying to make sense of the situation and sort out how she felt about it. But in the meantime, she decided to stick to her guns, still annoyed at House's antics.

"That's what you wanted," House insisted loudly. "You wanted me to tell you I love you." She didn't know how to respond to that or if she should respond to it honestly. But she grew angry at his phrasing.

"So, you think it's that easy? You act like an ass and then say three words and I'm supposed to just jump you?" House was becoming increasingly frustrated with her.

"I can't change what I did."

"No, you can't," she said angrily, crossing her arms again.

"But I'm trying to do something about it now."

"By kidnapping me?"

"By telling you that I love you!" he yelled, sounding aggravated.

"And why couldn't you tell me that in my office or-"

"You wouldn't have listened."

"I would have listened a month ago," she insisted, becoming more irritated.

"Well, I'm telling you now."

"Well, its too late now!" she yelled, trying her hardest to sound like she meant it.

"Why? Because of him? You can't be serious."

"Why not?" She asked incredulously.

"It's only been a couple weeks."

"He said he loved me," she said wanting desperately to hit him where it hurts. House's face dropped immediately into one of disappointment. His features hung loose, his mouth slightly open. He kept his eyes on the road. Cuddy watched him, waiting for his response. She saw his face tighten; he was becoming livid.

"When?" He asked. The word spoken short and firm.

"This morning."

"He's pathetic," House laughed with cruelty in his voice.

"Why? Because he loves me?" She asked with a biting tone.

"He doesn't love you," House snarled.

"Why not?" Her voice was becoming louder.

"It's only been three weeks!" House yelled, his voice high like it often was when he was arguing.

"Yeah well it doesn't take everybody twenty years." She said angrily. They sat in silence for another moment before House's eyes grew wider with a realization.

"What did you say?"

"What?" she asked coyly, knowing exactly what he meant.

"What did you say when he told you he loved you?" he asked impatiently.

"I said it back," she lied. She regretted it as soon as she saw House's expression. It wasn't surprise but disappointment. He was quiet for a minute as his eyes watched the road intently.

"You love me," House insisted with a grumpy child inflection.

"House, just take me back to the hospital."

"Not until you say it." Cuddy laughed in frustration.

"I won't, House. Just turn around and take me back!" Her heart felt heavy, as if she was almost feeling physical pain just being around him. She had been near tears ever since he told her he loved her and she just wanted to get away from him.

"No." House said decisively. "Say it."

"House! Turn around now!"

"Nope."

"Don't make me hurt you." Her voice was serious but he just chuckled at her challengingly. And with that, her hand came down on his wounded thigh harshly, he grunted in pain as his hand shot down and grabbed her wrist. He tried to push her hand away but she persisted, using her other hand as well. He was at a disadvantage, having to also drive at the same time and she won over him and her hand went back to his thigh. She prepared to tighten her grip on it to torture him but hesitated, letting her hand rest on his scar and his hand on her wrist. She looked up at him, looking for something in his eyes to incite her to grip his leg and make him scream and stop the car but she couldn't find it. He was looking into her eyes and she felt like she could melt under his gaze, like she did only weeks before.

"House," she said softly. His eyebrows raised in anticipation of her next words. "Watch the road." She removed her hand from his lap and retreated back to her side of the car. She looked out the window where snow was beginning to fall lightly. He looked back to the road and settled back into his seat. "House, please." She said, pleading. "Don't do this." He knew exactly what she was referring to. It wasn't just about the car ride. The 'I love you' had stung her. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. He wasn't the type of person who could put up with short-term pain even if it meant long-term happiness, but he was trying to be that person for her. "House," she said again. But he ignored her. She sat back into her seat turning her head back towards the window and craning her neck so she had the back of her head to him so he couldn't see the tear of frustration slip down her cheek. She tried her best to hide it but he could tell.

They rode in silence for a while, until they had left the Princeton city limits completely. Cuddy had fallen asleep by the time they had left Mercer county. House glanced over at her a couple times, watching her sleep. Any doubt he had about her had been washed away when he saw her leaned against the glass, her makeup splotchy around her eyes from crying. He loved her. He felt better having said it but the sting of rejection pained his heart.

After the sun was starting to go down, he looked down to see that he was running low on gas. The best time to get gas would probably be while she was still asleep, especially since gas stations were becoming far more sparse as they ventured farther into unknown territory. It only took him a few minutes until he saw a sign that signaled a gas station at the next exit. He got off the highway and drove until he saw the bright lights and symmetrical pumps. He pulled in and hoped out, trying to make it fast. He pulled his coat tightly around himself, bracing himself against the cold winter. The snow was falling thicker now. He looked out at the encroaching darkness. He took his wallet from his pocket and slipped his credit card out. He slid the card in the slot and entered his pin number on the pin pad. He glanced back at Cuddy, seeing her stirring inside the car, he turned back to what he was doing and tried to go a little faster. After he pulled the pump from the slot he realized he didn't pop the gas cap open. He opened the drivers seat as quietly as possible and bent down to press the down the small lever. She stirred slightly but turned over and settled back into sleep. He closed the car door, and went back to what he had been doing.

As the gas began to pump he leaned against the car, thinking about how lucky he was that she'd been able to go to sleep for so long. It gave him an opportunity to get as far away from Princeton as possible. Now she'd have to deal with him. Now he had more time. More time for him to get her to admit how she felt. But he had to wonder why she'd been so tired in the first place. She wasn't getting enough sleep, he supposed. Which begged another question. He heard the sound of the passenger door opening, which interrupted his train of thought. He was alarmed and stood up to face her where she stood. She didn't say anything, just closed the door and came around to his side of the car. When she got there, she stood staring at him for a moment before leaning on the car next to him. They stood for a moment and her change in breathing told him that she was about to say something and he braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"House," she began, her voice was tired and deep. Like it was in the mornings when they'd wake up in bed together. He almost smiled, hearing her say 'good morning' in his head. She took a few seconds to follow it up. "I don't know what to say. I don't-" she cut herself off, changing directions. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and spoke again, cutting him off before he could say anything. "I was so preoccupied with how you hurt me that I didn't-" she paused again, looking down at the pointed toes of her heels. "I didn't see how I was hurting you." House watched her intently. "And I never wanted that," she was beginning to cry again. She was almost angry with herself for it; he had made her cry more in the past month than she had in her entire life. But she couldn't help it now. She had seen him hurting over years and had felt guilty over that, even though it wasn't entirely her fault; she hadn't caused the infarction, she hadn't told Stacy to do what she did, she hadn't forced him to live from pill to pill. It hurt her to see him hurt like that. So much so, that she felt like she had built another place in her heart just for him and his suffering. And now, all of the pain he was feeling was her fault and the place in her heart was too full to ignore. She'd noticed him walking differently the past few days, in pain. She'd noticed him looking worse than usual; he had probably been up the night before drinking. All of that was her fault and she wasn't sure how she was able to ignore all of that up until now. Maybe she was just tired now. Too tired to keep the walls up that she usually hid behind. Whatever the reason, she was crying now.

"And I just-" she was feeling her words beginning to get caught up in her throat. He took a step towards her and he was standing in front of her. She took the opportunity to push off of the car and go to him. He wrapped his arms around her. He stroked the back of her head, letting his hands run through her hair. They heard the click of the gas pump telling them that it was done. She pulled away from him, wiping her face. "Where are we?"

"Pennsylvania." He answered, watching her eyebrows raise and her eyes bulge.

"What?" She asked, almost angrily. "Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Somewhere near New Albany." He said, thinking back on the last road sign he saw.

"And where the hell is that?" She asked, wiping her face again.

"It's in Bradford County." She sighed heavily, watching him take the nozzle out of the car and put it back into its proper place.

"House, why are you doing this?" Her voice was frustrated, though not really angry.

"I told you why."

"And I told you that it wasn't going to happen."

"Yeah," he answered, wondering if she really believed that. "You hungry?" He asked, realizing she must be starving.

"Not for Skittles and Tic-tacs," she answered, looking over at the gas station.

"What about Baby Ruth's and Circus Peanuts?" he asked with a smile. She only sighed in response. "Wait in the car," he said, nodding in the direction of the car. The keys were still in the ignition and the car was running; he'd left it on, not wanting her to get cold. She reluctantly went back to the car. Got inside and sat back down. House opened the back door and grabbed his cane, closed the door and limped of into the brightly lit gas station. The bell jingled when he opened the door.

"Can you tell me where I can get something to eat around here?" He asked the attendant working at the register. The man behind the counter thought for a moment before answering.

"Well, there's Lulu's down the road. Best burgers in the state." The man boasted, pointing briefly in the right direction. "But you won't find much else in the way of quality for a few miles."

"How do I get there?" House asked.

Cuddy sat in the car watching House talk to the gas station attendant, trying desperately to not even consider what House was asking of her. She wondered how far he would take this. He certainly couldn't just steal her and drive around the country for the rest of their lives. After a couple minutes, she saw House coming back to the car a with bag in his hands. He opened the door to the car and slid inside, tossing the bag on her lap. She opened it looking inside, listing off the items.

"A Baby Ruth, a bag of Circus Peanuts, Skittles, and some Tic-tacs," she smiled but quickly changed her face to appear more serious. "This isn't what you went in there for," she stated, disbelieving.

"No," he said, starting the car and pulling out of his parking spot.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"You'll see."

"House," she said, frustrated. "Look, I'm not going anywhere." He glanced at her for a moment before turning back to the road. "I'm certainly not walking home. So I don't see why you can't just tell me where we're going."

"To get something to eat," he said, as if it were obvious.

"You had to kidnap me and take me hundreds of miles away from anything I recognize in order for me to have dinner with you," she said, almost with a laugh

"Sad isn't it?" He asked, looking over at her quickly. She sighed and turned back out the window, watching the snow as it fell against the increasingly darkening sky. They drove in silence for ten minutes before House found the diner he was looking for. It was small and old fashioned with typical 1950's design and a pink neon sign that read "Lulu's diner" and a smaller sign just beneath it that read 'best burgers in the state'. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, she followed him. There were four steps leading up to the restaurant and Cuddy climbed them and instinctively waited for him, hovering her hand out in his direction for him to take if he needed, but he never did.

House opened the door, letting her walk in front of him. Upon entering they saw the décor was pretty much exactly how they'd pictured: black and white tile, bright red leather booths, the waitresses wore the standard waitress button up dress, though perhaps much shorter and tighter than normal. They walked along the row of bar stools and found a nice booth against the wall in the middle of the restaurant. They slid out of their coats and sat down on either side of the booth facing each other. Cuddy looked around and was a bit fidgety.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, his eyebrows raised casually.

"You mean other than you bringing me here against my will?" House sighed before responding.

"Cuddy, this is like that time when we had sex on the hood of your car." She was alarmed for a moment, looking around to see if anyone in the half-full restaurant had heard that.

"How is it like that?" she asked, angry at his having brought it up.

"Sure, I pushed you, but you could have gotten me off of you if you wanted. You know exactly where to hurt me," he said, motioning down to his thigh. "You had the right idea earlier but you didn't follow through. I'm assuming that's because you want to be here with me."

"Or maybe it's because I'm not sadistic like-" She stopped mid-sentence. "Yeah, maybe I wanted to be here," she answered quickly, looking around. He didn't buy it. He made a curious face at her. "I'm not fighting with you here," she explained. "In public. Half of the hospital already knows our business because the way we yelled at each other yesterday. I think I'd rather keep northern Pennsylvania in the dark on my personal matters."

"Half of the hospital already knew." He said, looking around for a waitress.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, alarmed.

"Kutner knows. If Kutner knows, everybody knows."

"How would he know," she sat forward.

"He saw us that day at the airport," his tone was casual far more casual than hers.

"And you didn't tell me?!" she asked in a shouted whisper, leaning in closer.

"I didn't see any reason to. I made sure he wouldn't tell anyone. Anyway, you broke it off the next day."

"If you made sure he wouldn't tell anyone, how would everyone know?"

"Cuddy, does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. I've worked hard to keep my personal business out of the hospital and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you had sex with one of your employees. In public, no less," he said with a smile. She opened her mouth to retort but the waitress appeared in front of them. She was a thin blonde with voluptuous curves and the top two buttons of her waitress uniform were unbuttoned, revealing the tops of her breasts. She looked a lot like Wilson's ex assistant. Both he and Cuddy noticed that and exchanged a knowing glance. Cuddy ordered eggs, coffee, and toast and House ordered a coke and hamburger, which- as he told the waitress, he expected to be superior to all other hamburgers in the region. The waitress walked away, shaking her hips as she went. Cuddy rolled her eyes at the woman's retreating figure.

"Jealous?" House asked Cuddy glared at him. "Don't be. Sure, her cup runneth over but no way does she have your ass." Cuddy shook her head, almost smiling. "So, why were you so tired?" he asked her curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"You slept for almost five hours in the afternoon. I'm assuming that means you were tired."

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"Not sleeping so well?" He asked, hoping she wasn't and hoping it was because of him.

"House, if I am not getting enough sleep, it's not because of you." She said, playing with silverware wrapped in the napkin in front of her.

"Oh it's because of him? Does he keep you up all night like I did?" House asked, becoming irritated.

"House!" Cuddy scolded in a whisper. "That's enough. I'm not talking to you about him or us."

"What if I give him a code name? Does 'malignant tumor' keep you up all night like I did?"

"Yes, he does," she said quickly, trying to shut him up the only way she knew how. "He's very good."

"Better than me?" House asked, clearly threatened. Cuddy regretted having even said it to begin with.

"House," she said with a sigh.

"Is he?" House's face was serious. If she told him the truth, she'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm not answering that so you might as well stop asking." The waitress walked over, bringing them their coke and coffee. Cuddy thanked her, House ignored her, staring intently at Cuddy.

"Fine. Just admit that you love me, and we can go home." Cuddy felt a heat inside of her that was probably making her face flush. She had to restrain herself from yelling at him.

"Maybe," she began, looking down and stalling. "Maybe if you'd said that before, I could have reciprocated. But the fact of the matter is; now it's too late. You made a mistake, I made a mistake and we can't always fix things. That's just the way it is."

"You're making this too complicated. Just tell me how you feel."

"I'm not the one making this complicated. You're the one who dragged me here, House. You're the one who refuses to take me home, effectively keeping me here against my will."

"Would you cut that out?" he said, annoyed. "I'm not keeping you anywhere. You like spending time with me."

"House, if you already know how I feel about everything, then why am I even here?"

"I didn't bring you here to figure out how you felt. I brought you here so you'd admit it." Cuddy sighed, widening her eyes in frustration. "And we're not going home until you're honest with me." Cuddy laid her head back against the seat cushion. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, sipping at their drinks. House watched her and Cuddy would occasionally look at him. 'I can't help falling in love with you' came on over the speakers and serenaded them unobtrusively. She was becoming uncomfortable. Not because she didn't want to be there, but because she did. The natural feeling of his company startled her out of her complacency. The waitress returned with their food. Again, Cuddy thanked her and House ignored her. He waited for her to leave before speaking.

"Cuddy, it isn't too late," he said, leaning in towards her. She looked up at him and they looked at each other. "We can still," he trailed off with a shrug. "Whatever you want." She opened her mouth to speak but his words trampled hers. "Whatever you need." She wrinkled her brow with raised eyebrows. She was frustrated but didn't say anything. She watched him take a bite of his sandwich.

"How is it?" she asked, ignoring what she really wanted to say. He shrugged. He was too distracted to savor anything other than her.

"Want some?" she shook her head.

"I don't like ground beef," she said casually. He cocked his head to the side. He was sure he'd known that about her but had just forgotten. "You might have known that if you'd actually eaten out with me instead of-" she looked around before finishing. "Just fucking me all the time." She took a bite of her eggs.

"That's not true, we've eaten out," House said, suggestively wagging his eyebrows. She simply rolled her eyes at him. Truth was, however, House did regret not taking her out. "Anyway, I knew you don't eat hamburgers. I forgot, but I knew." he said, believing that was true. She nodded skeptically. House leaned over a little looking at someone behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at. "Doesn't he look like Wilson a little?" he asked.

"Who?" she asked, turning back to see. He raised his pointer finger, trying to be subtle. Her gaze followed to where he was pointing. As soon as she saw him she had to laugh. "Yeah," she said, her voice high as she laughed. "It's the eyebrows." House smiled at the sound of her laughter. He stared at her smile. He missed it. "I still can't believe he did this," she said, his smile fading.

"He thinks he's helping you," House assured.

"And he's not?" she asked, curious about his phrasing.

"He is. But he doesn't know that. He rationalizes it by saying he's helping you but I don't know that he actually believes that."

"Why wouldn't he believe it?" She asked, taking a bite of her toast.

"Because anyone being locked in a car with me for hours on end can't be good for them." She chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Then why would he do it?"

"For me," he said simply. She wanted to be angry at that but she wasn't. She wanted House to be happy too. Realizing that again, she smiled at him sympathetically.

"House," she started, putting her toast back on her plate. "Are we going to be able to function together?"

"What do you mean?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

"The way I see it, the hospital needs us both. Are we going to be able to work together? Are you going to keep this up for the rest of our lives?" He shook his head swallowing his bite.

"Just until you admit how you feel."

"Just a few days ago you said were done. Or was that all just part of your master plan? Make me unsuspecting so it's easier for you to kidnap me."

"Maybe," he laughed. Not wanting to admit that it was Wilson who came and scooped him off of his couch and convinced him that Cuddy did love him and that it wasn't too late. He had better been right. She smiled at the sight of his smile.

"House, what if being with you makes me unhappy? Would you even care?" It was possible. Even when they were happy together, there was so much history and feelings between them that she was sure they could never be happy all of the time. They would fight, he would resent her, and she would resent him.

"Cuddy, Ethan is probably better for you. You probably wouldn't be too unhappy with him." She was surprised that he used his name and at what he was admitting. "But you don't want him, do you?" She didn't answer him and he didn't expect her to. They both went back to their meals. They continued to talk over the rest of their dinner. Mostly about useless things, she preferred it that way. At least while they were eating. When they were finished, House paid their bill and she stood, putting her coat on and waited for him to do the same but he was struggling. He shot her an embarrassed glance.

"Sometimes if I sit for too long-"

"I know," she said simply, offering her hand. He opened his mouth to refuse it but surprised himself by taking it anyway. She helped him to his feet and when he stood he was an inch away from her face. She didn't move away, just looked at his eyes, which she always found remarkable. He took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her. She accepted it for all of one second before pushing him off of her and turning to walk out of the restaurant, angrily. He put his coat on and followed her as quickly as he could but found it difficult, with the pain he was feeling in his leg, which in the wintertime, was especially bad.

When he got out the door he saw her standing at the car, she looked upset. He looked down at the four steps he had to go down to get to the car. He swallowed hard as he began to descend them. It didn't take long but he was wincing in pain, the last step must have been slippery because he tripped and fell, landing on his knees. As soon as she saw him go down and yelp in pain she was running to him.

"House," she said, her voice ripe with concern. She grabbed his arm to pull him up, onto his feet, but half way up, his foot slipped on an icy patch and tripped again, this time taking her down with him. She hit her knee hard on a rock or something sharp and they were both in pain. But she ignored hers. "House, are you okay?" He didn't answer. His teeth were clenched. He was frustrated, being confronted with his inadequacies, how he can never be normal for her. "House?" he just grunted in response. She reached her hand in his pocket, grabbing his pill bottle. She opened it, took out two and held them out to him. He took them from her and, swallowed them, quickly. "House," she said again. He sighed roughly. He was still on his knees with his hands buried in the snow. She instinctively moved her hand to his thigh and began rubbing it the way he showed her almost two months ago. She was kneeling in the snow, her legs only covered by the thin layer of cotton leggings. She rubbed his thigh hard and fast, he looked over at her and met her gaze. She raised her eyebrows and just said "House?" as if asking him if he was alright. He nodded. Just then, the door to the diner behind them opened and they turned to see who it was. It was a tall, thick, bearded man who was surprised seeing what he thought he saw. He continued slowly down the stairs, staring at them. Cuddy continued rubbing House's leg, albeit more subtly. When he got far enough away, he started to chuckle before getting into his truck. He didn't drive away. They couldn't tell because it was so dark, but he was probably still watching them.

House started, laughing. At first under his breath but he it grew louder, Cuddy joined him as they both started laughing, still sitting in the snow. Soaked and freezing and in pain. He pushed himself so that he was sitting on his bottom in the snow, continuing to laugh. She scooted closer to him, smiling.

"Can we get out of here, please?" She asked, looking up to the truck that still sat in the parking lot, spanning several parking spaces. House looked over his shoulder to see the silhouette of the truck driver still sitting in the cabin.

"Yeah," he said and she stood, holding onto his arm, pulling him up, this time she made sure her feet were firmly planted. He used his cane as leverage, keeping them both steady. When they were on their feet, she kept her arm around his, walking to the car door, playfully as if walking an old grandmother across the street. He smiled, shaking his head at her. "Thank you," he said sarcastically and he unlocked the car. She went around, and opened the passenger door and got inside. He put the keys in the ignition, starting the car. He glanced over at her before turning back to the wheel and driving out of the lot. They rode in silence for a while. The stinging in her knee eventually reminded her of her injury and she turned on the light overhead. And brought her knee up to her chest to better look at the knee.

Her leggings were torn and blood trickled lightly down her leg. House looked over at her, looking back to the road, where snow was falling more heavily.

"You alright?" he asked, glancing back to her.

"Yeah," she said ripping her leggings a bit to get a better look.

"Wilson probably has a first aid kit in the back."

"House, where are we going?" She asked, realizing he wasn't headed back in the direction of Princeton.

"I don't know," he responded casually. "You want that first aid kid?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms, dropping her knee back to the floor. She was frustrated and wanting very much not to wake up in Missouri tomorrow.

"That's a pretty nasty cut, you should clean it."

"And you should take me home." She looked at the clock and saw that it was a little after seven. She leaned her chair back and closed her eyes, realizing it would be pointless to argue. Getting hot, she slipped her arms out of her coat and laid on top of it

As she lay there with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the car on the road, she began to get tired again. House noticed the change in her breathing; if she wasn't asleep yet she would be soon. They were traveling down a long stretch of dark road only trees as far as the eye could see. It was difficult to see in the dark, especially with the snow coming down in sheets. He drove for an hour that way. It was especially difficult to focus with House's thoughts constantly going back to Cuddy. He hadn't even noticed the last couple road signs because he'd been so distracted; he didn't even know where they were at the moment. But it was only a mater of time before he reached another sign and figured it out.

Then, what sounded like a loud gunshot roused Cuddy from her state of sleep. Her head shot up and she looked to House who was trying to keep the car from veering into a tree. The car slid on the icy road and spun out slightly, though House was excellent at keeping the car on the road. The car finally screeched to a halt and the two of them were left sitting with widened eyes, he was gripping the steering wheel tightly, she was gripping her armrest and part of the door. She looked over at him again, still in a state of shock. He looked back at her and simply let out a sigh.

"Flat tire," he stated, flipping on the emergency lights.

"Well, what now?" She asked, her heart still beating rapidly in her chest.

"Now, we call a tow truck," he said, taking his phone from his coat pocket. When he had it out, in front of his face, his expression changed to a more serious one as he hit a few buttons.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I don't have any service."

"That's just great," she sighed. "Well now what?"

"I'll be back," he bent down and popped the trunk and opened the car door and a gust of cold air came in. He got out and she followed suit.

"Is there a spare?" she asked. He opened the trunk and saw that there wasn't one.

"Nope." He answered.

"Why not?" she came around the back of the car and looked in the trunk with him. "It looks like he's prepared for every emergency except a flat tire.

"Actually I took the spare tire out," she turned her head quickly to stare at him. "Well, I wanted there to be enough room in case I had to throw you back here." She relaxed a bit once she realized he was joking.

"I can't believe this. We're stuck here. Do you even know where we are?"

"Not exactly. It's cold out here. You should get back in the car," he said, realizing she didn't have her coat on.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"I mean I'm not exactly sure where we are. We're probably in Laporte. Get back in the car."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"Fine. Freeze." He looked down and saw the first aid kit and picked it up. "Here, let me bandage your knee."

"No, it's fine."

"It's not fine, it's still bleeding." He could see it in the red light of the car's taillights. "Let me fix it up and then you can yell at me."

"Fine." She marched around to the passenger side door.

"Get in the back," he said, opening the back door on the driver's side. She gave him a confused glance. "There's more room back here," he explained before sliding into the seat and closing the door once he was seated. He saw her hesitate before coming to the door and getting in the back seat. He opened the kit, looking down to see what he had to work with. Some gauze and other bandages: large and small, q-tips, small scissors and tweezers, and some weak pain killers and antibiotics.

"Gimme your leg." He said, motioning it over. She bent her left leg underneath her and sat on it and lifted her right leg over his lap, resting her foot on the other side of him. "Take these off," he sat, motioning to her leggings.

"No, just rip it." She said, knowing he just wanted less clothes between them. He grabbed a pinch of her leggings with either hand and pulled, ripping them all the way down her thigh. She rolled her eyes at how unnecessary that was.

He started by sterilizing the wound which fizzed and stung. Cuddy winced in pain. He dabbed her cut with a cotton ball, cleaning it. She jerked away but quickly moved her leg back into place.

"Stop moving," he chided. He never had patience for other people's pain, especially when it was nowhere near the pain he felt all of the time.

"It stings!" she hissed as he rubbed it roughly. Not merely to torture her but he didn't want it to get infected.

"You're a baby," he smiled at her.

"Ugh, I have to pee," she said, looking out the window.

"Well, there are plenty of trees to go behind."

"I don't think so." She said, watching the snow fall. "How's your leg?" she motioned with her head.

"It's okay. Your cut's fine but you're gonna have a nasty bruise," he concluded, peeling a bandage from the rapper and carefully placing it over her cut. He gently used his pointer finger to glide over the top of the bandage, attempting to make it stick better. His finger softly slid around her knee and she looked down to see him as his finger left the bandage completely and roamed down the smooth skin on her thigh, where her leggings were torn. His fingers eventually came to a place where they had to either stop or slide under her leggings to go any further. He chose the latter and simultaneously leaned forward to kiss her. His lips met hers and his hand plunged to the center, where her thighs met each other. She gasped into his mouth as he stroked her. His tongue venture in her mouth and, for a moment, she accepted and stroked impatiently it with her own. It didn't taker her long to change her mind a pull away from him, grabbing his hand and removing it between her legs.

"Stop it! Stop doing this!"

"You keep kissing back!" he argued. "You want me to kiss you." She rolled her eyes and opened the door, getting out of the car. He did the same. "Cuddy, get back in the car, it's too cold out here."

"House, just-" She was so frustrated she couldn't even think of anything to say. "Just stop! I don't want you!" She yelled, standing in the middle of the road, which was dark except for the flashing emergency lights.

"You do. I know you do! You kiss back."

"I want to kiss you," she admitted. "Sure. And maybe I want to fuck you." She tried to make her phrasing as impersonal as possible. "But that's it. I don't love you!"

"You're full of shit!" He said, accusingly. "You love me."

"I don't." She turned away and shivered.

"Put your coat on." She stomped over to the passenger side of the door, opened it, grabbed her coat out and put it on in jerking motions. "Just admit it."

"No! I'm not telling you that I love you after you kidnap me and get us stranded in the middle of nowhere with no cell service!"

"So you won't admit it out of spite? That's class."

"Oh shut up! You don't know everything."

"True. But I know you love me."

"Would you cut that out?"

"Not until you admit it!"

"House, what are we going to do? We need to start thinking about that, not your petty, childish attempts for love."

"Just tell me the truth and we can-"

"I have but you won't listen."

"That's not the truth. "I don't deserve it, but for whatever reason, you love me. Just say it. Admit it." She opened her mouth to yell at him some more but closed it again and hesitated before speaking.

"You are so stubborn," she huffed.

"So are you," he smiled.

"House," she sighed. "Does the answer really matter? It won't change anything." He didn't seem happy with that but persisted.

"Just say it." he said more quietly, stepping closer to her. He saw the layer of snow peppering her large, dark brown curls.

"Fine," she said almost angrily. "I love you. I have for a very long time." Her voice juxtaposed what she was saying. House smiled slightly, with one corner of his mouth. Though he was never completely happy about anything. If it wasn't one thing it was something else. "But we can't be together," she reminded him.

"Why not?"

"House, you said if I told you -"

"Fine," he answered, frustrated. "We know there's a town about 50 miles back that way."

"Don't you have a map? Or did you take it out because you didn't want me to find it, jump from the car while it was driving down the highway at 60 miles per hour and use it to navigate my way home?"

"Something like that," he admitted. She groaned.

"This is just great!" she threw her arms up in the air. "We've been here a half hour and not one car has driven by."

"I got on 80 to 380," House said, talking mostly to himself. "Then I got on Highway 6. So we're definitely in Sullivan County." Cuddy just groaned again and went back to sit in the car, where it was warm. House stood out in the cold for a minute, trying to figure things out. He finally walked over to the car, opening the door and leaning down to talk to her.

"I think I figured out where we- what's wrong?" She was bent over and had her face buried in her hands. "Cuddy?"

"Nothing." Her voice was muffled.

"Okay," he said, skeptically. "Well, I think we should start walking in that direction, he pointed in the direction they had been going.

"What?" she said incredulously, looking up with red, wet eyes. "You want to walk for who knows how long in the freezing cold with a bum leg?"

"The gas station attendant said the next gas station was in Duporte, which we passed-"

"Can you close the door?" She asked, angrily. He mumbled, getting in and shutting the door behind him.

"We passed Duporte an hour ago so we should be only a couple miles away from Laporte. And, who knows, maybe I'll get cell service somewhere down the road."

"Fine, you go, but I'm not joining you," Cuddy said bitterly. "I think we should wait."

"You just said a minute ago-" he stopped midsentence and winced, clenching his teeth at the worsening pain in his thigh. "-that no one has driven by in a half hour." He reached into his pocket and took out two pills, and saw that his bottle of vicodin was almost empty. He didn't seem concerned.

"I'm assuming you have another prescription with you," she said with her eyebrows raised. He nodded and she seemed relieved.

"How about we wait here for a while longer, then go." She nodded in agreement. "Cuddy," he began, getting her to look at him. "I do love you." It had become easier to admit it after he had said it once already. What he was so afraid to believe before, he was now desperate for her to believe. She didn't respond. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you. But, House, you just don't-" she tried to find the right words to explain. "I can't," she said shaking her head.

"Why?" He tried not to sound invasive or like he was pushing her, but he couldn't help it.

"Because," she stated, as if that were an answer. She shook her head again. She looked up at him and his eyes were probing, imploring her to explain further. "Because, House. I love you but I," she continued shaking her head. "I can't be with you." still not really an answer.

"Why not?" he asked, this time with more urgency.

"Because, you scare me, House," she confessed.

"What?" he asked, completely floored. "You're afraid of me? You think I'll hurt you?"

"Not physically," she answered.

"Cuddy, the thing with Wilson's assistant was a mistake. I didn't even want it to happen. It was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to hurt you."

"That's not what I mean. I'm scared to be close to you." House still didn't completely understand, but he was beginning to. Cuddy tilted her head sympathetically at the look on his face. He opened his mouth to ask her to explain more but a bright light came down the road and washed out the color in the car. Cuddy held up her hand to block out the blinding light. House squinted at the light that became slower as it approached until it came to a complete halt. It was high off the ground, so he figured the light must belong to a truck.

"Stay here," House instructed.

"House," Cuddy started to protest but House was getting out of the car anyway.

"I'll be back," he said just before closing the door, silencing the loud rumbling of the truck's engine. House walked to the truck, through the thick falling snow, unable to see who it was behind the wheel. As he approached, he heard the door to the driver's side of the truck open. He heard the crunch of the snow as the driver plopped down from the cabin of his truck. House saw the tall, thick silhouette of the driver come around to the front of the truck.

"Engine trouble?" Asked a deep voice.

"No, flat tire." House responded.

"You call for a tow?" The man asked.

"No reception," House said. House heard the door to the car open and turned to see Cuddy getting out. House, annoyed that Cuddy hadn't listened to him, turned back to the man to see him pause, staring at Cuddy who, in the light coming from inside the car, had a pretty glow to her. It disappeared after she closed the door and she faded into darkness before coming around to the driver side of the car to stand next to House. "I told you to wait in the car," House scolded.

"Please," Cuddy scoffed. House wasn't sure why he had, all of a sudden, a vested interest in where Cuddy was. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be protective of someone. "Hi, I'm Doctor Cuddy," Cuddy went to shake the man's hand. "This is Doctor House." The man took her hand. House took a few steps, to stand near Cuddy. The man reached out his hand and shook House's as well.

"I'm Frank." The man responded. Cuddy was close enough to see the man's thin lips stretch into a long smile as he looked at her. He looked down to see her torn clothes. "You alright?" he asked her, eying House suspiciously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for stopping. Do you think you could help us call a tow truck?" She asked.

"I can do you one better. The motel I stop at on my route has a car service. I can take you there." Cuddy turned to look at House. He didn't seem too happy about the idea.

"No thanks, we're fine."

"It's really no trouble. You'll have to squeeze in though. Unless you wanna ride in back with all my cargo."

"I said we're fine."

"House!" Cuddy hissed, shooting him a glare. "You're the one who got us into this in the first place. We don't have very many options," she said quietly to him. She then turned back to the driver. "Thank you, that would be great. How far did you say it was?"

"Just a few miles," Frank answered, looking up the road. House and Cuddy followed his gaze to see only rows and rows of trees into the shadowed horizon, which was covered n a veil of falling snow. "Hop in," he said, turning back to his truck, taking a few steps before turning back around to look at Cuddy. "You ride in the middle," Frank insisted. Cuddy turned to look at House.

"No," House said, firmly. "No way. You're not-"

"House, riding in the middle can't be good for your leg. Let's just go," she walked to the door of the truck.

"Cuddy," he tried to protest again but she opened the door to the truck, climbed the step and went inside. House turned around to get his cane from the back seat of the car, he also grabbed her purse, which she'd forgotten.

Upon entering the truck, Cuddy had seen a shotgun lying across the passenger seat. Her eyes widened and she instinctively let out an "oh."

"Don't, you worry about that," Frank told her, taking the gun and putting it in the space between his seat and the driver's side door. "My line of work can be dangerous. There's a lot of money in robbing trucks and selling the cargo," he explained. She just nodded hesitantly before sitting down.

"That your husband?" Frank asked Cuddy as they sat waiting for House.

"Yes," she answered quickly without thinking. He looked down and suspiciously eyed her empty ring finger. "We take our rings off when we travel, just in case." She knew that was a lame excuse so she tried to distract him from thinking about it too hard. "So, do you drive through here a lot?"

"Every so often."

"What do you carry?" She turned to see House climbing up the step. She leaned over to help him up.

"Oh be careful, honey." She raised her eyebrows at him, so that he would understand where she was going.

"Oh, you know I'm always careful, Baby." Cuddy rolled her eyes at how much he enjoyed saying that.

"Thank you," she said, after House plopped her purse onto her lap.

"How long you been married?" Frank asked. The loud hiss of the engine, signaling their departure.

"Oh," she said, looking to House. "Five years," she answered. "Are you married?" She asked the man, unable to see his left hand.

"Divorced," he answered. "It's hard to keep a steady woman with this job," he explained. After riding for a few moments in silence the man spoke again. "Hey," he said abruptly. "Ain't you the couple from the diner?" he asked. They then immediately recognized him as the man who had seen them on the ground.

"Oh, yeah." Cuddy answered, regretting having admitted that immediately after.

"You're kind of kinky, huh?" He asked her. Cuddy's head shot over to House, who looked satisfied at her awkwardness.

"It wasn't what it looked like," she assured him.

"It's alright," Frank said. "I see all kinds of crazies on my route. I been doing this for nearly twenty years. I've seen lots of strange people. None of them as pretty as you." House was almost laughing at her, watching her squirm.

"Thank you," House responded jokingly.

"I was talking to the lady," The truck driver sounded offended. "So where you comin' from? Where you headed?"

"We're from New Jersey. We're going to," she hesitated, looking to House.

"We're going to the mushroom festival," House said with an excited smile.

"Well, that's in Kennett Square. And in September. Where you really headed?"

"Official doctor business," House answered, beginning to get annoyed with the man.

"What hospital you work at?"

"The one where they don't end their sentences in preposition's."

"What?" Frank asked, not understanding but getting the feeling he was being insulted.

"Princeton Plainsborough," Cuddy stated quickly.

"Oh in Princeton? I traverse that area." Cuddy regretted relenting that information.

"Is 'traverse' on your 'word of the day' calendar?" House insulted Frank again.

"Excuse me?" Frank asked, developing a strong dislike for this man he was transporting.

"House!" Cuddy chided. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day and he's tired." She looked over him and glared. "And in pain," she added.

"I'm not in pain, I've got enough narcotics to knock out a horse."

"You a junkie?" Frank asked him with disdain.

"No!" Cuddy answered immediately, trying to quell the tension. "He has a medical condition." She looked at House warningly.

"Well, it's very gen'rous of you to be married to a man like that," Frank said, looking forward, the chubby knuckles of his hands wrapped firmly around his large steering wheel. Cuddy squeezed House's healthy thigh to keep him from commenting.

"She is," House said simply, looking to Cuddy. He smiled down at her affectionately.

"A drug addicted cripple with an attitude problem," Frank said, perhaps concerned that he'd been too subtle before.

"Yes, he's a handful," Cuddy conceded.

"More than a handful," House said, smiling at her suggestively. She rolled her eyes with slight smile. He took that as an affirmation of his endowment.

They rode a ways in silence. They passed a couple gas stations where House had predicted they would be. It would have taken maybe thirty minutes to walk. Twenty minutes had passed while driving and House and Cuddy became suspicious about the time Frank had said it would take to arrive at their destination. She glanced up at him with a concerned expression. House reached up his hand and ran his hand across her cheek comfortingly. She leaned her head into him, tucking her head under his chin. He ran his hand though the hair on the back of her head. She tucked both her hands between his legs, not sexually, but because it was warm there and it was cold in the truck. Frank was probably used to it. House knew she didn't mean it sexually but he couldn't help but hope she was coming around. He closed his eyes, smelling her hair. He missed the smell more than anything. Her fruity, girly shampoo was a nice juxtaposition of the must of the truck cabin. House felt Cuddy jerk a little from under his chin and he opened his eyes to see why. He looked at her to see her looking down at her lap where Frank's hand rested on her knee. House opened his mouth to say something but Cuddy, remembering that Frank is armed, reached her hand up to put a few fingers over House's mouth. She tried to move from under his grasp but Frank held his ground.

"Hey!" House said ignoring her. "What are you doing?" Frank didn't answer him. "Get your hand off of her." Frank kept his hand there, even moving it up her skirt a little. Cuddy squirmed under his touch.

"House, it's fine," she insisted, eyeing the shotgun to his left. "Frank, could you please-"

"It's not fine," House interrupted as he pushed Frank's hand off of her. Frank's other hand went to his gun, merely adjusting it so it sat more upright. Perhaps he just wanted House aware of its' presence. House's eyes widened upon seeing it and he stopped talking. But Frank didn't touch Cuddy again. He didn't even look over at her again. Cuddy considered that maybe he was ashamed that he'd been so desperate to reach out and touch a stranger. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea from what had taken place in the parking lot of the diner. She felt bad for him. House, on the other hand was livid, but had been shot once before and knew better than to bug Frank again, at least not until he put his hands on her again. Cuddy rested her head back on House's shoulder, moving closer to him to put some distance between her and Frank. House wrapped his arm around her. A couple minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

"Here we are," Frank said, parking the large vehicle and hopping out, without even looking at them. Frank made his way quickly to the front desk o the motel as Cuddy and House got out of his truck.

"Jesus," Cuddy sighed. "That was awkward."

"I thought he was going to shoot me," House said with a relieved laugh.

"Well you deserved it, the way you treated him."

"I deserved it? He's a sexual predator: he was fondling you."

"He's just lonely. He's harmless," Cuddy said looking over at him through the window, talking to the manager at the front desk.

"Cuddy he had a gun. A big gun."

"Yeah, for protection. He was embarrassed. House, you just can't treat people however you want." House sighed and offered a "yeah," in agreement, realizing he couldn't afford to highlight his inadequacies at the moment.

"Come on," he said, putting his arm around her back to lead her to the car service area. It was a small, one room garage with dirty glass windows letting the bright fluorescent lighting paint the surrounding snow a stark yellow. They saw someone working inside through the windows. "Excuse me." House said, knocking on the glass.

"We're closed." The man said dismissively, only glancing once in their direction. Cuddy sighed in disappointment.

"Hey, we need a tow!" House said, looking at his watch, seeing that it was only nine.

"We're closed!" The man shouted, not even looking at them.

"House," Cuddy said, pulling on his arm. House turned to look at her. "He's you as a mechanic," she smiled. He smiled back at her before turning back to the man working inside to yell at him some more. "House," she got his attention again. "He's not going to help us. The way I see it, we've got two options. We find a phonebook and call someone else, or we stay here." She turned to look at the row of unappealing looking motel rooms. She was hoping he'd pick the phonebook option.

"I say we stay here!" he said, almost excitedly. He grabbed her arm and started leading her in the direction of the check-in desk.

"House, you can't be serious."

"Hey, you suggested it."

"I was hoping to appeal to your sense of responsibility over Wilson's car." House laughed at her. He wasn't going to pass up a chance to sleep with her. Even if all they did was sleep. He just started walking in the direction of the motel again.

"House, I'm not staying in a sleazy motel room. And I've only got the clothes I'm wearing."

"You can wear my shirt."

"House, I'm not sharing a room with you."

"Yeah and what happens when the creepy, predator truck driver sneaks into your sleazy motel room in the middle of the night, huh?"

"Right, like you could protect me anyway," she said, glancing down at his leg. Her words seemed to sting him, but he let it roll off of him, like most other things.

"Come on, let's get you out of the cold," he said, ignoring her previous comment. He limped off in the direction of the front desk, Cuddy followed. When they entered, the bell attached to the door rang out, signaling their arrival. Frank was still in the room, conversing with the manager, who he seemed to know.

"Hi," House said, playing nice. "We'd like a room." Then he turned to Cuddy. "Right, honey? Just one?" She glared at him. "She's old fashioned," he explained to the manager, jokingly. The manager looked at her expectantly for an answer.

"Yes, just one." She answered, looking at Frank out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her closely.

"I can upgrade you to the honeymoon suite for just five dollars,"' the manager said.

"Fancy!" House spoke with faux excitement. "It's a deal." He took out his wallet and paid the man.

"Come on, sweetie," House said, taking her hand and leaving the room to go back outside. She pulled her hand away form his and walked beside him. They walked along the sidewalk, lined with doors and lights in glass boxes positioned next to each large, metal, room number. House looked down to see the number 16 on the door key and walked all the way down to the sixteenth door. Cuddy stood impatiently as he unlocked it.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" He said in a goofy voice. She smiled but ignored it as he pushed the door open. He closed it behind them. Cuddy looked around, seeing the condition of the place and making a disgusted face.

"This is gross," she said, flipping on the light and looking around at the stained and faded yellow and green striped wallpaper.

"Very 70's," House stated and looked around at the wooden walls and brown carpet and the brown and burnt orange striped bedding. There were two old chairs with faded floral cushions that looked like you could catch something from sitting in them. There were two, forest green beaded lamps on either side of the bed on dark, wood painted plastic nightstands. There was a plain white out-of-place lamp sitting on top of another small table next to the chairs that had a built-in ashtray with ashes still in it. They took off their coats and threw them at the end of the bed.

"Classy," she stated, looking at a broken mirror that hung on the wall over a dresser. Then she looked over at a cheap flea market painting of a bowl of fruit. "I can't believe I ended up here," she said, shaking her head. Then she looked at the bed. "I'm not sleeping in that. It's probably filthy."

"Hey I paid a hefty sum for this room, you better enjoy it." She laughed at him and his five extra dollars. "Just imagine what the other rooms look like."

"House," she said, catching his attention as he lifted the blanket to inspect underneath. "You should know, I don't plan on having sex with you. I really just want to keep this as platonic as possible." House just chuckled at her. "What?"

"Sure," he said. "You still have to pee?" She didn't even want to imagine what the bathroom looked like.

"Yeah," she said, walking slowly over to the room with a sense of foreboding.

"Hurry up. I have to go too." She opened the door, and peered inside. It was pretty much how she'd imagined. Light brown tile, beige toilet that may or may not have originally been white. There were rings around the shower/tub which was veiled half way with a stained shower curtain. She looked over at the rust stains in the sink and sighed. There was the same copy of the fruit painting as in the other room. She closed the door behind her and she lifted the toilet seat up with her shoe and attempted to sit without actually touching the seat.

House sat down on the bed and heard the sound of the springs in the mattress going berserk as the mattress bent. He opened the drawer at the bedside to find it empty.

"What kind of motel is this? They don't even have the word of the Lord handy for those all too common god-fearing motel goers! Blasphemous." He heard the toilet flush and the sink running and a minute later, she came out, having taken her ripped, bloody leggings off. House unbuttoned his button-up shirt, Cuddy watched him cautiously as he did so.

"House," she said, concerned that he hadn't understood her before. He was wearing a t-shirt underneath and when he'd taken off his button-up, he threw it at her.

"Thought you might want it to wear," he said, passing her to go to the bathroom. She sighed, looking down at it. She took off her blouse and unzipped her skirt and undid her bra, tossing them all into a chair. She put his shirt on, buttoning it just enough so that her breasts weren't visible.

"So, which one of these 'bowl of fruit' paintings do you think is the master copy?" he asked from inside the bathroom. She laughed at his joke.

"This one," she said, looking at where it hung, crooked, on the wall. She walked over to straighten it. She heard the toilet flush, then the sound of running water.

"Nah," he said when he opened the door. "I'm going to have to go with the one in the water closet." He stopped talking when he saw her standing there in his shirt. The sleeves all the way down to her fingertips the tail of it just below her panties, revealing her perfect legs. Her hair bounced playfully below her shoulders, her bangs were swept to one side, seductively covering one eye. She brought her hands together nervously fidgeting. He crossed the room, quickly limping without his cane. She stood there, waiting for him to reach her and when he did, her hands shot up to grip the sides of his face and bring his mouth to hers. Their tongues collided then mingled and stroked, desperately fast. She pulled his face to hers harder and harder missing the taste of him, missing the feel of his stubble on her hands and the feel of his mussed hair as she ran her fingers through it. Her hands roamed his body, feeling his chest under his shirt. He put his hands under the shirt that she was wearing, running them quickly across her smooth stomach. He sighed heavily with satisfaction, just being able to touch her like that again. His hands found her breasts, his thumbs ran over them, his other fingertips danced over them. He resisted the urge to pull and grab with the desperation he felt.

She moved her hand to his pants, undoing his belt and his zipper and reaching her hand in his pants. Once she found what she was looking for she gasped with urgency and she tugged and stroked and licked his lips until he was hard and she pulled it positioning it in front of her and he pulled down her panties and he was inside of her. She wrapped one leg around his ass, and pulled on his t-shirt with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. He had one hand against the wall and the other hand roamed her body as they pushed and banged the wall loudly. He grunted and she screamed with every powerful move that sent her crashing into the wall behind her. He was mindful not to hurt her as he let his arm cushion the blow, knowing he would have a bruise there later.

She moaned into his mouth and said his name over and over until all the pressure that built up inside of them exploded and she felt him rush and spill inside of her and he felt her tighten and relax. They breathed heavily into each other's mouths for several seconds. But suddenly she stopped breathing altogether. He noticed this and before he could ask her what was wrong, she was pulling up her panties, pushing him off of her, and moving quickly into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her but the lock was broken. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and stared blankly, feeling a heavy weight pulling on her heart. It felt like shame. She look in the mirror, hating what she saw but not shying away from it. She heard his gentle knocks at the door.

"Cuddy," he said her name still out of breath. "You okay?" She heard the doorknob turn and she closed her eyes as the door squeaked open. He saw her standing there, her hands resting on either side of the dirty sink. "Cuddy?" She didn't look at him, she closed her eyes.

"Get out. Please."

"Cuddy,"

"Just leave me alone, okay?" her voice sounded like it might crack at any moment. She opened her eyes to see him looking as broken and wounded as ever. She had never noticed what power she had over him before. Was this a new development, she wondered? He turned slowly to go. "I just," she started quickly, trying to catch him before he shut the door behind him. He stopped and turned back to look at her. "I just feel like," she couldn't finish the sentence.

"A hooker?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down. "Or an adulterer."

"Well, this is the usual venue for both so that's understandable."

She sighed heavily and exasperatedly, looking at herself in the mirror. "This isn't right," she said, shaking her head, her breathing still fast.

"Cuddy, I love you. You love me. Tell me what isn't right about that."

"House, it just wasn't a good idea."

"No," he agreed. "No, it wasn't. Not if you really are scared to be close to me." She sighed at the reminder of her words.

"House,"

"You don't need to explain." He wanted her desperately to explain but she was half naked in front of him and just had sex with him and he didn't want to push her, knowing she had nowhere else to retreat to.

"I want to," she said, wiping the almost-tears from her eyes.

"Okay," he turned around and walked over to the bed and moved the coats aside and sat down on it. She left the bathroom and followed him over and sat down next to him, bending one of her legs underneath her and letting the other rest on the floor.

"It's just that-" She fiddled with the corners of the adhesive bandage on her knee. "It hurt. What you did. And I'd always shied away from relationships for that reason."

"Cuddy, I won't happen again," he sighed, feeling like he'd said that for the hundredth time.

"You can't promise that."

"I can."

"That's not just it. That's not the only way you can hurt me." He seemed confused. "I've watched you self destruct for over ten years. And it was hard enough to see it happen from a safe distance. But to be with you would just make that so much harder. And you just- you don't care House."

"I care about you."

"But not about you. You live like you don't care about yourself. You don't care if your kidney's shut down from your drug or alcohol abuse. You don't care if you piss off one of your patients and they bring a gun into your office and shoot you. House, a relationship isn't just about caring about the other person. You have to take care of yourself too. I can't save you, House. I can't fix you. And I don't want to watch, helplessly as you suffer." She was almost shouting but she was angrier at their situation than at him.

"So none of this was about Wilson's assistant? Or that I treat you like crap? Or whatever you yelled at me about in your office?" She chuckled sadly.

"It was about that. I was angry. But I guess I also needed an excuse to get away from you. You're so," she paused trying to think of the word. "Intense," she settled on. "You're a lot to handle."

"I can't promise you that I'll take better care of myself," he said, looking down at his hands.

"I know," she responded. House bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and he put his head in his hands. She put her hand on his back.

"But you do love me," he said, between his fingers.

"Yes."

"Did you really tell him you love him?" She sighed before answering.

"No. I told him I needed time." He seemed to relax a bit.

"But you will?"

"I don't know." She rubbed his back. He let out a deep, uneven sigh that shook a little. She leaned over and rested her head on his back, embracing him. They sat like that for a couple minutes. She listened to his breathing, her head rising and falling with the expanding and detracting of his lungs.

"Cuddy?"

"Hm?"

"If it really is what you want. I'll let you go." She lifted her head off of his back. He sat up to look at her. "Just tell me."

"House."

"I think I love you enough to do that for you." Cuddy thought for a moment, looking into his wounded eyes. His blue eyes that she loved so much. His eyes that couldn't hide from her. She looked in them and saw him half-full and not half-empty; she always saw that.

"I don't know," she answered perfectly honestly. "I don't want to be selfish and just give up on you just because I can't handle it.""

"Well, it's selfish of me to force you. So we'll call it even," he smiled sadly at her before looking back down at the dirty carpet between his feet. House looked as if he were giving up; after all he'd done to get her here. She watched him sink down with disappointment and she wondered if her choice might prove to be the most ironic of all. She'll have to watch him suffer still only now she is responsible more than ever. She put her hand back on his back and scooted a bit closer. She put both her legs up on the bed, letting her knees rest against his left thigh. He sat up and put his arm around her, bringing her into him and she rested her head underneath his chin.

"House, I want you to be happy." He chuckled at her childish sentiment.

"I know," he said, caressing the back of her head.

"Do I make you happy?" She turned her face up to look at him. He looked down at her calmly.

"Sometimes," he answered. "Not right now," he laughed.

"I know," she felt guilty. "But when we were together. When it was just sex. You seemed better," she recalled, having forgotten that until now.

"Did it make you happy?"

"It was stressful," she admitted, "always thinking about how long we could keep it up."

"I didn't think about it."

"I bet. We were having sex every night. Why would you think about anything else?" She smiled.

"I also thought about you. Still do."

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice full of air. "I think about you too." He leaned his head over to kiss her, stopping short of her lips, imploring her to meet him half way. She did. This time their kiss was slow; there was no impatience, no urgency. Slow and calm and she let herself go. They breathed each other in, tasted each other. She gripped his face, he held her waist. She moved back towards the center of the bed, bringing him with her. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pulling him down until she was laying down and he was over her. He broke his mouth away from hers, still hovering over her.

"I'm not doing this if this is goodbye." She wrapped one leg around him and grabbed his shirt to pull him down to kiss her again. He got his answer and he seemed happy with it, kissing her with more vigor, massaging her tongue with his own. He moved his head from side to side, to get a better angle, never getting enough of her. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly and broke the kiss to look down at her topless form. He kissed the corner of her mouth lightly; he kissed her chin, then her neck. His mouth trailed down her collarbone and to her ribcage and his tongue went over her breasts and he took great care to pay equal attention to both. She ran her hands through his hair, closing her eyes, her hands moved to his shoulders, holding onto him, not wanting to let him go. His mouth traveled down her stomach, his hands still on her breasts: his tongue trailing down to her belly button, circling it.

His mouth moving even further, down to her pelvis and grabbing each side of her white, lacy underwear and slid them, slowly, down her thighs. Lifting herself off the bed for a moment, so he can slide them down her legs. He grabbed her legs, at her calves, just under her knees and he spreads them apart, gently. He slid his hands down her thighs and moved closer to her. He took the time to kiss her knee, on top of her bandage, remembering that he had brought her down when he fell, and had wounded her. The metaphor was not lost on him. She watched him kiss her and her head fell back on the pillow, bringing a hand to her mouth with a soft inhale. Her fingertips rested on her lips when she felt his mouth between her legs and she gasped again. He took his time, he wanted to show her how much he loved her. He wanted to prove it with his tongue. He doted on her and she gasped in deep sighs. Her voice strengthened as she spoke his name. "House," she breathed.

His hand reached up to rest on her stomach, the other wrapped around her thigh and pulled, bringing her closer to him. He drank from her, swallowing several times and she inhaled sharply and clutched the sheets at her sides.

"God," she breathed. "House." He moved faster and pulled harder on her so that she was even closer until he was completely buried in her.

She came, breathing heavily, with a handful of sheet in one hand and a handful of pillowcase in the other. He looked up at her and smiled softly. He propped himself up and crawled across the bed, over to her. He bent down and kissed her and she could taste herself on his lips She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. His belt was still undone so she merely unzipped him and slid his pants down to his thighs.

"Your leg okay?" She asked, remembering the recent strain it has gone under.

"Yeah," he said, quickly as he slipped himself inside of her. They moved together and he looked at her with his blue eyes that she saw even when hers were shut. She melted under the heat of him and the weight of him. She felt a burning in her heart at the thought that he did love her. House loved her.

"Look at me," he told her, when her eyes had closed. She did and saw him telling her that he loved her. Not with his words but with the wrinkle in his brow, the glassy film over his eyes, his blue, undeniable stare. She gripped the sides of his head again and brought his face to hers. They kept their eyes open as their foreheads touched and they breathed the air from each others lungs. One hand went to his back as a sudden urgency to go faster came over her. Knowing exactly what she needed, he moved deeper and faster and her voice became louder and the headboard tapped against the wall. "Cuddy," he said, as they finished together. Her hands went to his back, embracing him, and then to his neck and the back of his head, bringing him in to kiss her. "I love you," he said in a whisper, breathing heavily. He moved from on top of her and sat up on one elbow facing her. She scooted over to him, nuzzling into him.

They stayed like that for a moment and Cuddy's pointer finger danced around his jaw and to his neck, where she traced the faint scar from when he'd been shot there. She kissed him on his neck.

"I love you too," she said. He lay down on his back and she moved to rest her chin on his chest, facing him.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked, with hope in his voice.

"I don't know." He was upset that her decision wasn't clearer for her. He didn't respond, just leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. "House." He still didn't look at her. She sat up and positioned her face over his so he had no choice but to see her. "House," she said again, pleading for understanding, though she didn't actually explain anything for him to understand. He closed his eyes, playfully avoiding her. She laughed. "Open your eyes," she sighed. He shook his head quickly like a five-year-old. "House," she said in a warning, motherly tone. He still didn't listen. She put her hand between his legs and squeezed him rather roughly, his eyes shot open and he gasped. She giggled at her triumph. He grabbed her hips and flipped her so that she was laying beneath him and she screamed playfully. He grabbed her wrists pinning her. He bent down and kissed her softly. "I love you," she told him, after he broke the kiss. It wasn't easy to admit the first time, but she was beginning to come around to the idea of being in love with him and telling him so.

"Then your choice should be easy." He said, into her mouth.

"It should be," she said with a sigh. He plopped back down next to her. She snuggled into him. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. She lay awake, resting on his shoulder, taking in the smell of him. Occasionally turning down, resting her lips on his chest and kissing him as she thought about what she was going to do.

The next morning, they woke up, smiled their "good mornings," brightly. He was hopeful that she was as confident in him as he was in her. But he didn't ask. They had morning sex, dressed, and went outside and arranged for Wilson's car to be towed and the tire to be changed. They went to get coffee nearby as they waited for the car and the flirty-ness with which she made small talk and the way she would touch his knee, gave him hope. When the car was fixed, they took off back to Princeton. House was satisfied that his plan worked to the best of its abilities. The ride back was calm. They didn't speak much but they didn't need to. Cuddy asked him to take her home so she could change her clothes, then take her back to the hospital where she could retrieve both her car and her phone and make sure nothing had gone awry in her absence.

"You want me to come in?" House asked, after he pulled up in front of her house, officially ending their journey.

"If you want. But it'll only take me a minute. We're not having sex," she smiled. She noticed that he had his eye suspiciously on something behind her. "What?" she asked, turning to see what he was looking at. In her driveway, she saw Kellerman's parked car. Her heart stuttered in her ribcage. Her eyes widened. She didn't want him to find out like this. "House," she said turning back to him. "It's fine, I don't need a ride back to the hospital." He rolled his eyes.

"You're kidding. Cuddy, you-"

"House, please? Just, let me take care of this." He hoped she'd meant 'let me get rid of him'. "Please?"

"Fine." He leaned in to kiss her, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one could see before kissing him back. She got out of the car and watched House hesitantly drive off before walking over to Kellerman's car, where he was asleep inside.