Hi everyone!

So I'm back from my mission… And I've finally found the time to finish writing this chapter, which is the last "regular" chapter for this story.

I hope you'll enjoy reading it.


** I Will Always Choose You **

Chapter 12 –

She hadn't called.

House had gone straight home after he'd left her hotel room that night and she hadn't called him. Not the day after, and not the day after that either. He'd laid all his feelings bare for her to see and it hadn't been enough. He hadn't been enough. The choice was crystal clear, though, at least to him. He'd never before in his life been more honest and straightforward about what he truly wanted, and what he was ready to do to have it.

When he'd come back home that night, he knew that the bet he'd just taken was a risky one. He had her, and yet, he'd still chosen to leave. Maybe that was it. Maybe he would never see her again and that fragile, emotional parenthesis would always remain just that: a parenthesis…

But, he had to do it. As risky and crazy and stupid as it was, deep down, he knew that leaving was his only sane option. There would always be that unavoidable physical attraction between them, something they would never be able to fight or repress no matter how screwed up everything else around would be but he needed more than just that. He wanted more. Even though, during the past two years, her touch, her skin, her smell, the sensation of her body wrapped around his and the intoxicating power of their lustful dance was something he'd undeniably missed, more than excruciatingly so, that was not what he wanted from her the most. Sure, their sexual connection would always be mind-blowing and irresistible and wild. Of that he had no doubt. But if he couldn't get everything else, good or bad, every other moment, each second of every day, simple or complicated, quiet or passionate, every fit of anger, fear, tenderness, love, support, laughter, joy, all the fights, stupid fights about nothing they would have, and all the hot reconciliations over those fights they would share, then there was no point in having her at all. Not point in wanting her in his life, day after day.

House was not used to being so absolutely certain about anything other than scientific facts. Still, for the first time in his life, he had unwavering self-confidence about what he wanted, on a purely emotional level, and that feeling was oddly comforting to him. He'd come to her on a Friday. After the week-end had passed, the realization that he'd maybe lost her for good slowly dawned on him. But he'd gone all in, laid his cards on the table and said everything that had to be said. Everything…

What was left for him to do?

Come to her, again? And then what? Beg? Yell? Threaten her? Threaten her to do what, anyway? No. If there was something he'd learned to accept about her over the years, sometimes in the most cruel, painful way, it was that she was not someone he would tame. Ever. And, God forbid, taming her was the last thing he wanted to do, anyway. He loved her exactly because she was untamable. He loved her because she was exhausting, unnerving, challenging, and rebellious. He loved her and… she hadn't called.

At some point during the week-end, quite predictably, Wilson had sneaked in to check on him, eager to hear every detail about how things had gone between him and Cuddy at the hotel. House had played it cool, undermining the devastating effect that her resulting silence had had on him. Wilson had patted him on the shoulder, and offered to drown this fateful irony in Bourbon and the idea had seemed like a good one at first but, after five minutes of Wilson's famous, unbearable display of empathy, House had kicked him out, unable to deal with his friend's concern, no matter how genuine because it had felt more like pity and House had always hated pity, above all else.

Monday, and Tuesday had gone by as well, and House was starting to consider making changes in his life, finding new goals, or at least trying new horizons. He had his freedom. In every sense of the word, he was indeed free again: freed from prison, from drugs, from his sham marriage. He could do anything. Go anywhere he pleased. Choose whatever he wanted to choose. And be accountable to no one for those choices… Freedom was a decent option, right? Better than being locked behind bars, or beaten by creepy criminals who took advantage of his disability. Better than being married to someone he didn't love, or didn't even know. Better than being addicted to drugs, irritable, and disillusioned.

Better than being alone?

# # # # # # #

"Come on, let's go grab some beers!" Wilson chants entering House's office.

"Sorry, I'll pass," House grumbles, looking down at the notes on his desk.

"House, you've been wallowing in misery over the past five days. You need to-"

"I'm not wallowing! I'm meditating. That's different."

As he tilts his head up to look his friend in the eyes, he pouts theatrically to emphasize his point.

"You're not meditating at all. You just sit there, doing nothing!" Wilson argues. "Just get your ass off of that chair and go have some fun."

House frowns dubiously and stares at Wilson who raises his chin up a bit to sustain the diagnostician's scrutinizing gaze.

"It's the middle of the afternoon. I'm told there're people dying of cancer at this hour that you're supposed to take care of."

"No one's dying. At least, no one's going to die now. Let's go!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who are you and what have you done to Wilson?"

"I'm buying," the oncologist says, totally unimpressed.

"You're always buying! That's, like, the Mother of invalid arguments," House replies, not budging.

Moving next to the coatrack, Wilson unhangs House's leather jacket and unceremoniously throws it in his direction. House catches it in extremis before it can fall on the messy pile of documents atop his desk.

"I can't leave my team alone," he argues, with perfectly faked seriousness, as he puts the leather jacket away, laying it on one of the chair's arms.

"Your team doesn't need you. They're doing just fine on their own."

"Ouch! Words can hurt, you know?"

"No, truth can hurt. Seriously, when was the last time you got really involved in a case, anyway?" Wilson challenges, arching his eyebrows in a provoking manner. "So are you coming or not?" he adds, crossing his arms over in chest, showing growing signs of impatience.

House squints at him, a little bit intrigued, but finally gets up and puts his jacket on.

"Fine. But, if we get caught playing hooky, I'll tell the headmaster that it was your idea!" He grabs his cane before limping past Wilson and exiting his office. After a few seconds, Wilson follows suit, a large, self-satisfied smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

"I'll meet you at Connelly's," House says, walking towards his bike, once they arrive in the parking garage.

"No, no, no!" Wilson protests, a little too quickly, which causes House to stop dead in his tracks and turn around to eye Wilson suspiciously. "I mean, I've come across this new bar the other day…"

"And?"

"And… the place is cool."

"So is Connelly's."

"Oh, for the love of God! Just get in the damn car and stop whining," Wilson snaps aggravated, opening the door to his car and sitting behind the stirring wheel.

House looks around the empty parking garage with a quick scanning glance and sighs heavily, as he resignedly complies and enters the car, too. He's barely taken his seat that Wilson turns the engine on and drives off with a loud screeching sound.

"This is very interesting," House says, turning to the side to observe his friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wilson replies, conspicuously focusing on the road ahead as they exit the parking garage.

During the ride, House pays little attention to the road, too preoccupied to scrutinize the oncologist's profile and find in any of his expression wrinkles some hints that will help him understand the reason why Wilson suddenly felt like leaving PPTH in the middle of the day to drag him in a bar with him.

"You met a bartender," he states, after a while, narrowing his eyes to study Wilson's reaction.

Wilson rolls his eyes upward but doesn't answer.

"Stripper?" House suggests, not giving up.

Still not answering, Wilson sighs and briefly turns his head to the side, shooting House a dismayed look.

"What's the name of that place?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Ugh, why?" House exclaims extravagantly. "You went to a bar. A new bar. Without me… I have every right to think this is highly suspicious."

"I go to plenty of bars without you, House. And so do you. Only your paranoid mind would see that as suspicious."

"No, no, no. You're not the barfly type. You like to take your dates to fancy restaurants and artsy exhibitions-"

"Just so we're clear, this is not a date!" Wilson objects, unable to repress the amused grin that appears on his face.

House doesn't have time to find the right, witty comeback because Wilson pulls over next, and turns the engine off. For the first time in the ten minutes or so that the drive took, House jerks his head to the side and looks outside the window, finally paying attention to his surroundings and realizing that he's nowhere near a bar, or even less the kind of neighborhoods where the bars he usually spends his time in would be.

"Or… maybe this is," he adds cryptically, his teasing remark going totally unnoticed, as the diagnostician is busy staring outside, completely bemused.

Just across the sidewalk along which the car is parked, there's the entry to a small park, and in the distance, House can make out a playground where several children are playing, climbing ladders and sliding down colorful slides. Swiftly shifting on his car seat to face Wilson again, House shoots him a panic look, his eyes wide in obvious puzzlement, as he's visibly trying to comprehend what the purpose of them being here is.

"What the-" he barely manages to articulate, confused.

"Get out of the car," Wilson prompts him gently.

"What do you mean, get out of the car? If this is some kind of 'drop the cripple in no man's land and see how he finds his way back on his own' sick game, I'm warning you, I'm not playing-"

"Get out of the car, House!" He repeats, more abruptly this time. "Don't act more stupid than you are. Get out, now, and just get the fuck there."

Again, House looks over his shoulder, incredulous, and stares in the square's direction for long, silent seconds. The park is small enough for him to scan the entire place, at least, check every bench and chair that is placed all around the greenery.

And then, he sees her.

She's seated on a bench, alone, in an isolated corner of the park. She looks nervous, as she's checking her watch and glances around her with unmistakable impatience. He doesn't quite believe he hasn't noticed her the first time he's looked because she's undeniably the most noteworthy person in the entire space. Or maybe it is because she's just definitely and irremediably bound to be unique to his eyes especially. Taking a deep breath, House grabs his cane that he's put between his legs when he entered the car and with a shaky hand, he reaches for the handle, opening the door hesitantly. Before he exits the car, he glances at Wilson one last time and the oncologist simply answers with an encouraging nod, without saying a word.

As House enters the park, passing through the gate, he hears the sound of Wilson's car driving off but he doesn't look back. Instead, fixing his gaze upon Cuddy, and taking advantage of the fact that she's looking in the opposite direction, he walks determinedly towards her bench, hoping that she will not turn her head in his direction right away, and that he'll get as close to her as he can before she'll notice him. And indeed, he manages to walk merely a few steps away from her before the characteristic off-beat sound of his limping footsteps betrays him and she suddenly jerks her head to the side to look at him. When their eyes meet, he freezes, unable to approach any way nearer.

"Hey!" She says, softly.

He gulps, and looks down at his feet, trying to control his ragged breathing.

"Hey!" He answers, almost inaudibly, looking up again, everywhere but at her.

"I half-expected Wilson to have to drug you with sleeping pills to get you here," she says, with a teasing voice.

Incapable of holding back the urge to look at her any longer, he shoots his head in her direction and locks eyes with her.

"So, you're the brain behind this kidnapping master plan?" he teases back, smiling.

"Sue me."

"Why?"

"I read your letter. Well, part of it, at least…" she says, biting her bottom lip seductively.

House takes a deep breath and crosses his hands atop his cane's handle, squaring his shoulders and looking down at her quizzically.

"Are you planning on standing here the whole time, or are you gonna sit down at some point?" She adds, a bit reproachfully.

Sighing dramatically, he complies nonetheless and takes a seat on the bench beside her. But not too close. As soon as he's seated, he lowers his head and looks down at the ground through the space between his knees, his forehead resting atop his cane. Silence settles between them for a while.

"It's Wednesday." His voice is filled with a mix of sadness and relief.

He doesn't look at her, but he can see she's staring at him from the corner of his eyes.

"I know," she answers in a whisper, sliding on the bench to come closer to him.

When her body is close enough that their legs almost touch, he can feel the rhythm of his heartbeats accelerate in his chest. Slowly, he turns to the side and looks at her. She inhales a sharp intake of breath and looks back at him, a shy smile on her face.

"I needed a little bit of prep time to get my mother and Julia ready to… err… stomach my choice," she murmurs.

"What choice?"

"You, idiot," she says, looking him right in the eyes. "You're my choice. And I knew, the moment you left the hotel the other day that you would be. Maybe even before that. I knew all along, House. Because I choose you. I will always choose you."

She takes his hand in her hand and smiles, her most reassuring smile, in a way that says how much she remembers the night when he'd told her the same to let him know that she didn't choose to tell him the exact same words by chance.

House looks down at their joined hands, and closes his eyes for a second, as if he needed to focus on the sound of her words, still echoing in his ears, to be able to truly believe she said them.

"Are you sure?" He looks somehow incredulous, or maybe simply not ready to quite trust the significance of those five words.

I will always choose you.

He'd said them to her once, and he'd meant them more than he'd ever meant anything before. Still, she'd left him all the same, barely a few days afterwards.

"House," she coos with the softest voice, closing her slender hand around his fingers tighter, "look at me." He does as he's told and stares into her light-grey gaze. Her face is serene, and her eyes glisten in the afternoon light. "You were right. I was scared. I… am scared. What you did to me doesn't make it easy for me to make that choice-"

"Then don't," he snaps, hurt registering in his tone, as he hastily removes his hand from hers.

"Shut up and listen to me!" she orders, glowering at him.

She grabs his hand once more and forcefully squeezes it so he can't escape her grip.

"It's not easy, but I don't care. I want to make that choice."

"What about your mother, or your sister? What did they say?"

"I… they… uh…" she falters out, looking away.

"You didn't tell them, did you?"

"Because I needed to see you first! I didn't know if you'd reject me or not."

"You still don't know that."

Her mouth falls agape and she stares at him, stunned.

"What? Are you saying you've changed your mind? That… what you told me in your letter meant nothing?" Her wide eyes send daggers at him as she's waiting for his answer but he stares back at her, completely silent.

"Fuck you, House!" she snaps angrily, after a beat, letting go of his hand and getting up.

He catches her wrist just before she fully stands and pulls her back on the bench, forcing her to sit down again.

"I meant every word I said," he tells her, with a gravelly voice.

Even though she still looks angry and hurt, she can't hold back the sigh of relief that escapes her lips in that moment.

"Then what's the problem?"

"What's gonna happen when your mother finds out that you got back with the psychopath that crashed his car into your house?"

"You're not a psychopath!" Cuddy instantly denies, showing signs of distress.

"Do you think Arlene sees it like that?" He provokes, his tone deliberately harsh.

"I don't care," she replies, unwavering, raising her chin up defiantly.

"What about Julia? What are you gonna answer her when she tells you how absolutely insane she thinks you are?"

"I'll tell her this is none of her business!"

"And your colleagues?"

"I. DON'T. CARE!" she shouts.

He intensely stares at her for a while, challengingly, and when she doesn't flinch but instead sustains his gaze with even more stubborn determination, he heaves a deep sigh and briefly looks away.

"Cuddy," he says, meeting her gaze again. "There's nothing virtual about this. This is real life. All those people you care about, they're going to judge you, disagree with your choice, try to make you change your mind…"

"I'm not gonna change my mind," she tells him assertively.

He puffs but smiles fondly at her, unable to suppress the pride and tenderness he feels for her in that instant, the most stubborn and amazing woman he's ever known.

"Come on, even you don't really believe that," he scolds gently.

"So that's what this is about?" Her eyebrows arch in surprise. "You're afraid I'm gonna leave you again?"

"It's always going to be a possibility," he states, more factually than resignedly.

"I forbid you to say that!"

"Why? That's the truth."

"No. That is not the truth. That is just-"

"Cuddy," he says, sighing. "It's ok-"

Out of the blue, she shifts on the bench to sit directly facing him and plants her eyes in his, compellingly staring at him.

"Do you love me, House?" she asks, her tone clearly demanding him not to bullshit her with a deflecting answer.

"Yeah," he whispers, looking away. "Yes," he repeats immediately, his voice louder and steadier. "I love you."

"And I love you, too. You hear me? I tried to fight this. I tried to forget you. I fucking tried, ok?" she says, sounding angry, all of a sudden. "So you have no right to give up on us, now. I won't let you, I-"

"I'm not giving up."

"But what?"

"But…" He looks at her, and slowly raises his hand to her face, gently brushing her cheek with his fingertips. She closes her eyes and sighs voluptuously, leaning into his touch, the first since they're sitting together on that bench. "I'm a risky choice, Cuddy," he says, quoting his own words. "I just wanna be sure you really understand all the implications behind your choice before you regret making it, again."

"You remember what you said to me the other day at the hotel? You said we never really tried. And… I didn't want to admit it at first, but… you're right… Our timing sucked and we never tried, not really anyway. But things are different, now."

"How so?"

"Because you want me. And I want you, House. This is not going to be easy, I know that. But we're going to try. For real, this time. There's never going to be a good time for that but if you want this like I want this, then we just-"

"Need to try."

"Yeah."

She cups the side of his face in her hand and gently caresses the rough patch of his stubble with her palm. They stare intensely in each other's eyes and then she leans to him, slowly, and brushes his lips with her lips in a soft, almost shy kiss. The warm contact instantly makes him shiver and he takes a sharp breath, sliding his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss. She gives in for a while, moaning through his lips and putting her hand on his shoulder for leverage but when their tongue meet and they both feel the familiar twinge pervading them, Cuddy is the one reluctantly breaking their kiss, sighing as she gently pushes him away with her palm.

"There's someone here who wants to see you," she says, after a while.

Instantly, he shoots her an anxious glance, already knowing whom she's referring to.

"Just… Wait here, ok?" she asks, getting up.

He watches her as she walks away towards the playground and follows her with his eyes until she approaches a little girl who's sitting on a swing, while a woman of a certain age gently pushes her back and forth. The woman is unfamiliar to House, but from where he sits and by the way Cuddy talks to her briefly he assumes she must be Rachel's nanny. His eyes shift to the little girl, as Cuddy holds her hand and they both walk back in his direction, side by side. Rachel looks undeniably different than in the last memories he's kept of her. Taller, of course, but that's not surprising, and less chubby-cheeked, too. She doesn't really look like a grown child yet, but not really like a toddler anymore. Her hair seems longer, too, but House can't really tell it for sure. He stares at the kid, unaware of the intensity of his gaze on her and, it overwhelms him: the vision of the two of them, irremediably coming closer causes a lump to get caught in the back of his throat and suddenly, he finds it hard to breathe. The thudding beats of his heart echo in his ears and it makes him feel dizzy. As Cuddy and her daughter take the last steps that separate them from the bench where he's seated, he can't control his reaction any longer. Abruptly, he stands up and almost out of instinct, takes a step away. His eyes meet Cuddy's reassuring gaze and he freezes on the spot, setting his lips firmly and tightening his grasp on his cane's handle.

"Rachel," Cuddy says with a soft voice, cupping the back of her daughter's skull with one of her hands, as the other still holds her protectively against her, "do you remember what I told you before we came here, today?"

The little girl doesn't answer, but instead wiggles to set herself free from her mother's grasp. When she's removed her hand from Cuddy's, she takes a few determined steps forward and plants herself right in front of House, perfectly unimpressed, as she tilts her head up to look him right in the eyes with a piercing gaze. For what seems like an eternity, she neither moves nor speaks. She just stares at the man in front of her, her big blue eyes wide open with unmistakable curiosity.

"Hey, kiddo," House finally says, breaking the silence, his voice unsure and low.

"I'm not kiddo," the child states assertively. "I'm Rachel."

House's eyebrows arch in mocked surprise and he nods solemnly.

"Alright," he concedes cautiously. "You're Rachel. I'm-"

"House!" she exclaims, a large grin illuminating her face. "I know you," she adds proudly.

"Really?"

"Yes. Mommy says you is her very dear friend,"

"Are," House corrects, on impulse, before even realizing he does.

Rachel pouts and tilts her head to the side, eying him up skeptically.

"You… are… not is," House explains, catching Cuddy's amused gaze. "Never mind," he mumbles looking away.

"Are you mommy's dear friend?" Rachel asks, with the characteristic spontaneity of a five-year-old.

House is instantly caught off guard by the little girl's question, and desperately seeks support in Cuddy's eyes, silently asking her what the most appropriate thing to say is. From where she stands, behind her daughter, she silently nods and smiles reassuringly at him.

'Uh… yeah, you could say that," House replies, scratching the back of his neck to hide his discomfort.

Rachel simply nods, too, visibly satisfied with his answer. Then, she takes a step closer and points at House's cane with her tiny index finger.

"Where's the pirate head?" she says self-confidently.

House frowns and looks down at his cane.

"What do you mean?" He asks, intrigued.

"I…" Rachel squirms hesitantly for a few seconds, looking down at her feet. "I remember you had a pirate on your cane," she says in a very low voice, as if afraid her confession might be inappropriate or uncalled-for.

House's mouth falls agape and he looks down at the little girl, completely taken aback.

"You mean… the silver skull?" he asks, incredulous.

"What's a skull?" Rachel asks ingeniously.

"A skull is… it's the bony part of your head that encloses your brain," he tells her, with seriousness.

Rachel looks up at him, clearly confused.

"Like… uh… skull and crossbones, on pirates' flag!" House adds, forcing a smile.

The little girl's eyes light up as she obviously visualizes the image.

"Yessss!" she exclaims enthusiastically. "Where's the sklull on your cane?" she insists, stumbling on the new word she just learned.

"It's, err... it's on another cane."

"Oh," Rachel says, clearly disappointed.

Again, House searches for Cuddy's gaze, but she just looks back at him, with a fond gaze, raising her eyebrows expectantly. He sighs, and puts one hand on his knee, cautiously bending to squat down to the little girl's level.

"But hey, look," he says, suppressing a wince when the uncomfortable position triggers pain in his right leg as he holds his cane for Rachel to see. "This one's got flames at the bottom."

Upon seeing the designed flame cane, Rachel's eyes widen in wonderment and after silently seeking for House's approval, she holds out her hand to touch the wood and brush the outlines of the flames with her fingers.

"Pretty cool, uh?" House says, getting up again.

The little girl instantly nods in excitement.

"Pretty coooool," she repeats, grinning mischievously.

"Are you gonna live in our house and sleep in mommy's bed?" she asks, after a short silence, squinting at him.

House gulps and panic starts spreading across his features.

"I… uh… I don't know," he stutters, feeling uneasy. Then he tilts his head up and looks Cuddy right in the eyes. "I… hope," he amends. "At least the part about…"

"Ok, sweetie!" Cuddy exclaims, swiftly taking a step in her daughter's direction and gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "Mommy and House need to talk, just the two of them for a little while. So why don't you go join Magda on the playground and I'll come see you later to give you a kiss?"

Rachel instantly sucks on her bottom lip and looks up at Cuddy with sad eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," she moans, her lips quivering.

To defuse the inevitable, upcoming crisis, Cuddy promptly crouches down in front of her daughter and caresses her cheek reassuringly.

"Rachel, sweetie, what'd I tell you? I'm not leaving, ok? I'm just going to be away for one night, and then tomorrow morning I'll be back. Meanwhile, you're going to stay with Magda and she's going to take good care of you. I heard she knows a place where they make the most delicious waffles in New Jersey. And if you're a good little girl, maybe Magda will take you there… What do you say?"

Rachel hesitates for a second and looks away, absorbing her mother's words.

"Do they have whipped cream and chocolate fudge?" She asks, with a pout.

Standing next to them, House sniggers, visibly amused and Cuddy shoots him a glare. He shrugs and smiles, but conspicuously looks away as Cuddy returns her attention to her daughter.

"Yes," she says. "They have whipped cream, and chocolate fudge and peanut butter."

"Ok," Rachel says, a bit reluctantly, but still knowing there's no point in arguing any further with her mother.

When she's returned to the playground with her nanny, Cuddy turns to face House again and smiles shyly at him.

"So?" House asks teasingly, coming closer and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her to him. "Did I pass?"

"What?"

"Did I pass the test, with Rachel?" He says, all traces of banter disappearing from his voice.

Cuddy stiffens in his embrace and looks away, embarrassed.

"There is no test!" She defends herself, rather unconvincingly.

"Oh please, I saw the way you looked at me the entire time!" He exclaims, though non-judgmentally.

She puts her hands on his shoulders and snuggles up closer to him, taking a deep breath and opening her mouth to answer.

"It's ok. I understand," he speaks first before she gets a chance to explain herself.

"House," she sighs. "Rachel wanted to see you. When I told her about you she, and no one else, decided that she wanted to see you. She likes you a lot."

"She's not exactly the shy type," he says, looking down at her with a smile.

"She's very curious, yes."

"Curiosity is good," he declares, and there's a hint of pride in his voice. "And she's got a good memory, too. Did you see how she remembered about my silver skull cane? I mean, I maybe had it, like, for only three or four months after we got together and yet, she still-"

Tenderly, Cuddy cups the side of his face with her left hand and gently presses the pad of her thumb over his mouth to silence him.

"You're going to get along great," she says, looking him straight in the eyes with a loving gaze.

House feeling suddenly self-conscious, inhales a sharp intake of breath and averts his eyes.

"At least, I'm sure things are gonna be way easier with her than they're bound to be with my mom," Cuddy adds, catching his attention again.

"Thank God, there's always Zolpidem, the great destroyer of all annoying Jewish mothers!" He answers, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Or… maybe we could try not to rely on drugs straight away and see how it goes."

"You're saying that now, but-"

"It's gonna be ok, House," she tells him reassuringly.

"Yeah," he whispers, tightening his embrace, and nuzzling her neck for a while. "What are we gonna do now?"

"We're going to have sex," she answers, confidently.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in a park. A very public one at that," he deadpans, straightening up and frowning at her.

"I didn't mean now, you idiot! But, tonight. And… none of us will leave in the middle of the night, this time."

For a second, he says nothing and just studies her face, quizzically.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong: first you have me kidnapped by Wilson then you ditch the rugrat for the night so you and I can have sex? Wow, are you going to boss me around all the time like that or is it just this one time?"

"I'm not bossing you around!" she instantly objects, sounding vexed.

"Chillax!" he teases, repressing a chuckle. "FYI, you bossing me around is a massive turn-on. I may even want to reenact that kidnapping scenario, who knows? See how creative you can get as my merciless abductor."

"Stockholm syndrome already?" she says, mischievously.

"Hey, that's a real thing!" he protests, theatrically.

"So…" she says, her voice taking on a more serious intonation, as she extricates herself from his embrace and takes a step back to look at him. "I know Rachel's not really a model of tact but… what do you have to say about that thing she asked you?"

"What thing?" he says, swallowing hard, as he undeniably reads between the lines and guesses what she's referring to.

"That thing…" she bites her bottom lip, and stares at the ground, visibly feeling as uneasy as he is in that instant, "about us. About where you're going to live?" she adds, her voice barely above a whisper.

He knows that the issue she's just raised goes way beyond the simple, yet already complicated question that they'll have to settle to decide whether they want to be in a relationship and live under the same roof, or just take things casually and both keep their places, at least initially. The fact is, she now has a job in Philadelphia, and a house there. Rachel surely goes to some renowned school, for which Cuddy probably must have fought to get her daughter accepted in. House assumes she's made friends there, and even if she's just five years old and he, better than anyone, knows that kids at such a young age adjust rather fast, or maybe do so because they have no other choices, he doesn't want to be the one to turn their lives upside down. But he lives in Princeton and, maybe it's not too far away from Philadelphia, but it's still not the closest city, either.

Reading his silence as a sign of hesitation, or confusion, Cuddy searches for his hand along his thigh and gently takes it in hers, stroking the length of his fingers with her thumb.

"You don't have to answer that right away," she says. "But, you know… Now that Garrison's dead, there's a job opening in Princeton General and the Board approached me at the funeral so I could-"

"No!" he interrupts forcefully.

Her eyes widen, and she stares at him, a bit shocked by the unwavering determination she's perceived behind his refusal.

"But, how are we gonna make it if-"

"I quit," he deadpans, looking her straight in the eyes.

"What? But how… when? Wilson didn't say you-"

"Wilson doesn't know."

"When?"

"This morning. I handed Foreman my letter of resignation. No one knows yet. Except him."

"But… Why?"

He sighs heavily and stares at her with sorry eyes.

"Because… It's Wednesday. And… I didn't know if… I thought… I just needed a change…"

"But I'm here now. It's not too late for you to go see Foreman and explain to him that you've changed your mind. That you want your job back."

"No," he says, his voice much softer, though still quite determined. "I made my decision, Cuddy. I'm done with Diagnostics. This has nothing to do with you. I made up my mind long before you and I getting together was even an option. Chase is ready to take the job. I need to move on. Find something new."

"House, you don't have to. If I get the position at Princeton General-"

"Do you want that job at Princeton General?"

"I… I don't know. It'll just make things easier for us to be together."

"Listen to me," he says, staring at her with gravity. "I wreaked havoc on your life once. I made you do all the sacrifices. But I'm not gonna make you do it again. You love your new job. Don't deny it. I saw you at that conference when I came to Philly to see you the first time. You're happy there. And I'm sure Rachel is happy, too."

"Rachel is only five, she will adjust…"

"Sure, she will. Does that mean she has to? I was raised by a marine. I spent my childhood moving from a city to another. From a country to another. I don't want to impose that on Rachel. I don't want to upset the applecart and be that guy..."

"But… What are you gonna do?"

"You need to stop worrying about me. I told you: I can take care of myself. You don't have to fix me. Please, don't fix me…"

She takes a deep breath and silently nods, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'll start looking for a new job. In Philly. At least, now that we're going to be together, I know where to look, right? So that's a start."

"What about your apartment in Princeton?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I'll keep it, at first. But I'll find a place in Philly. I'll live in a hotel, or somewhere. Doesn't matter as long as I'm close to you, ok?"

"Or… you could live with us," she offers tentatively.

He puffs and smiles fondly at her.

"Why don't we try giving ourselves a little time, first?"

"What do you mean?" she says, worry registering on her face.

"Cuddy, don't get me wrong, I love you. But, I don't want to screw up this time. I want to do it right. We rushed things the first time. We had a bad timing. We put too much pressure on each other. Now, we get to have another chance, and I don't want to ruin it. I won't make the same mistakes, twice."

His words, confident and more mature than ever don't fail to impress her and seduce her, in a way every woman dreams to be seduced by a man. Pursing her lips, she takes a step towards him and slides her hands underneath the hem of his leather jacket to wrap her arms around his waist, as close to his skin as she can get.

"So," she coaxes with a bewitching smile. "You're saying you're going to play hard to get?"

He grins, as the familiar sparkle of desire instantly ignites inside of him.

"Noooo," he says, drinking her beautiful face in. "I'm saying we're going to take things slow."

"How slow?"

"Don't panic. Not virgin-like slow," he says, his smile turning into a full beam. "We're still gonna have sex. Plenty of sex. As much sex as we can get… But-"

"But?"

"I'll take you out on dates, and some nights, I'll drive you back to your house and I'll leave."

"Tssk, no you won't!" she says, dubiously, squinting at him to see if he's serious.

"Oh yes, I will! And then, other nights, you'll invite me over. But, you'll have to seriously improve your cooking skills first."

She puffs and smacks him on the side of his arm.

"My cooking skills are just fine!" she protests, unable to hold back a smile.

"We'll see…" he teases, grinning at her.

"How about yours?"

"Duh. I'm a great cook!" He exclaims, sticking his chest out proudly.

"I'll need proof of that," she provokes.

"I'll give you all the proof you need."

She stares back at him, and raises her chin up, challengingly.

"Will you also cook for my mom when she comes over for dinner?"

"Uhm," he says, rubbing his chin, pretending to give it a thought. "Depends. Will I have to also eat dinner with her afterwards?"

Cuddy rolls her eyes upward and shakes her head, smiling.

"Alright. Maybe," he concedes. "As long as she agrees not to try to convert me to Judaism."

"I can't promise she won't try."

"Do I get to bring Wilson as my religious cheat sheet, then?"

"Fine."

"And what about bowling nights? Or monster trucks?" He asks, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she bursts into laughter and buries her face in his chest, rubbing her nose between his pecs and tightening her grasp around his waist. Laughing too, he leans down and lays a kiss in her hair, wrapping his arms around her as well and squeezing her tight against him. They don't move for several minutes, simply relishing the warm sensation of their bodies pressed against each other's. After a while, Cuddy tilts her head back and looks up, searching for his gaze. They stare at each other, serenely, without saying a word.

"So, we're really gonna try?" she says, breaking the silence.

He nods solemnly, his eyes locked with hers.

"Yes. We're really gonna try," he repeats, quietly.


A/N

Thank you so much to: housebound, IHeartHouseCuddy, Abby, bere, Huddy4ever, LapizSilkwood, lenasti16, HuddyGirl, JLCH, Alex, freeasabird14, Boo's House, linda12344, OldSFfan, vicpei1, Suzieqlondon, dragonball256, maxima, Paulac45, byte size, alchukina, KiwiClare, oc7ober, and Faby for reading and commenting the previous chapter. You guys rock!

Thanks a lot, too, to all of you, silent, invisible ones, who still take the time to click on this story to read it, and even add it in their list of favorites.

As announced, the next chapter will be an epilogue, rather than a direct continuation of where we just left House and Cuddy in that chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it. I can already say that this is probably gonna be one of the mushiest, fluffiest chapter I've ever written… Ugh. ;P

I think I'll be able to post it sometime next week, rather in the second half than sooner. Meanwhile, I'm hoping to hear lots of you thoughts, guys!

Be well and have a nice day ~ maya