Foreman left Cuddy's house to go back to the hospital when his cell phone kept ringing, interrupting his conversation with House and told him they will discuss what needs to be discussed when he has more time. After he said good bye to him and Cuddy, he let himself out and House left the kitchen and limped over to the couch in the living room. Cuddy closed the book she was reading while curled up on the chair and set it down.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm getting so sick of that question," House said, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," Cuddy said sympathetically.
House looked up from his lap over at Cuddy whose expression matched her tone. "It's not your fault," he told her, feeling guilty for answering her that way. "I could be better."
Cuddy straightened her legs and pushed herself out of the chair and sat at House's right on the couch. She laid her left hand on his thigh, "are you really okay with serving your time if you have to?"
House looked from her hand on his leg up to her and saw that she had her own version of Wilson's concerned puppy dog look on her face. He thought back to how he answered Foreman when he asked that question and realized that when House told him he has nothing left, she may have heard and taken it to heart. He felt worse about the kind of bastard this experience with Wilson had turned him into. He had always said mean things, but the difference was he was aware of what he was saying and how it would affect those around him when he said it. He didn't think about Cuddy's feelings when he answered.
"Listen, when I told Foreman that I had nothing to lose, I didn't mean-"
"No," Cuddy interrupted him, shaking her head. "You don't have to say anything. I don't expect to be as important or to be a big part of your life again over night. For the last couple of years it had been you and Wilson. I understand that. I deserve what you said. As much as you hurt me, I hurt you..and that triggered what you did. So House, please, just leave it at that. You need to concentrate on what you need to do, and we can figure out what we are later. Okay?"
He wanted to say it wasn't okay. That whether she realized it or not, she is a big part of his life because she was there. It didn't matter to him if it was because Wilson asked her to or not anymore, because he suggested an alternative for her if she didn't want to in the DVD he made. She could have easily told Foreman to get him and that would keep her at arm's length from him. But she didn't. She came to him because she still cared. He knew she did when he saw her at Wilson's funeral when she thought he was also gone. He saw that what he did didn't matter to her in that moment; what did is that she thought she lost him forever. But, she didn't want to hear his analyzing. Not now. She wanted him to do what he had to do, so he gave her that. He saw her still staring at him, and it dawned on him he never answered her question.
"I'm really okay with serving if I have to. If there's no way around it," he paused to think it over and shrugged his left shoulder, "then I'll do it." He looked into Cuddy's eyes and saw sadness in them.
"House, the way I found you, the shape you were in, I'm afraid that if you do go back," he inhaled knowing that she was worried, "just, please, remember there will be people waiting for you." She took his right hand into both of hers, "who want you to be okay."
He grabbed hold of her left hand with his right, which his palm was facing and squeezed it tight. Their eyes locked, both glossing over knowing what his future may hold. She blinked and set a tear loose and House watched as it slid down her cheek. He reached over with his left hand and cupped it under her chin and used his thumb to brush the tear away. His eyes found hers again which never left him and they both leaned in close, as though their fights, and the separation never happened, and their lips touched and fit the way they always have. Cuddy lifted her right hand off of his and brought it up to his cheek, feeling the unshaved face that she missed more than she thought she ever could...