It was two days before he showed up again; she came home to find him waiting in the driveway. She had been up to her ears in meetings and complaints about House from clinic patients. Maybe now he would chill out for a while. After she let him in he went straight for the kitchen and put some coffee on. He didn't look twice at the scotch stain on the carpet. The bathroom mirror had been replaced. She'd wait and see if he noticed. Or decided he hated himself again and smash it to smithereens. House got the cards out and taught her how to play double solitaire and refused to answer her questions until they had played three games, showing no mercy for the beginner and beating her all three times.

"Feeling okay?" Both mentally and physically, she thought, but decided that keeping the question vague was the best thing for both of them.

"I've been better."

"How's the head? Is the migraine gone?"

"My head is fine." House got up and poured himself another cup. He didn't go back to the table, he stood at the counter with his coffee.

"Why did you leave before I woke up the other morning?" Cuddy turned around in her chair to face him.

"I had some things to do."

"What things?"

"Private things," he answered tersely. In other words, it was none of her business.

"Have you talked to Wilson?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to?"

"I will when I'm ready."

"When will that be?"

"When I say it is." House sounded irritated. He wasn't ready to talk about Wilson and his departure just yet.

"You can take a day or two off if you want."

"If I stay home all day I'll have too much time to think. If I'm at the hospital I can at least…do something."

Do something. House's way of saying that he needed work to distract him from the too fresh memory of his best friend's less than glorious exit. Cuddy wasn't too keen on the idea of House torturing the clinic patients or his underlings all day, but it was better than flipping out and locking himself in the bathroom again.

"Where have you been the last two days?"

"Catching up on my soaps."

"I thought you didn't want to stay home and think too much."

"I don't think about what's going on around me when I watch my soaps," House replied, raising an eyebrow. "That's why I watch them, so I can get out of my own head for a while."

"And I thought it was because you liked staring at the all the cleavage."

"I do that, too."

Cuddy shook her head. In a bizarre way, he was right. She had seen him when he watched those corny soaps: he was completely absorbed in the plotlines. He knew who was sleeping with who, who had an evil twin, who was getting divorced, where the actors lived, what other soaps the actors had been on, if any. He had hundreds of episodes on VHS and DVD. Everyone needed an escape every now and then, and if House wanted to get caught up in the lives of secret princesses and orphaned billionaires, then so be it. It wasn't much different than her love of fashion magazines, and House would be the first one to point that out.

"You want something to eat?" she offered as she got up and went to the fridge.

"I'm not hungry."

Cooking sounded like too much effort, so Cuddy got out the milk for some cereal. From the corner of her eye she could see House slowly limping his way across the kitchen until he was practically looming over her. His eyes were bright and awake, a stark contrast to the rest of his tired and wrinkled appearance.

"I owe you a few things," he said, then took her hand and stuffed a wad of crumpled money into it. 500 dollars after Cuddy straightened the individual bills out.

"For the stuff I broke," House explained.

"That stuff wasn't worth this--"

"As far as I'm concerned, it is. Take it. You deserve it for putting up with me, if nothing else. Replace your stuff and buy yourself something nice with the rest."

"I'm not taking this," she said, pushing the money back into his hands.

"Yes, you are." He crumpled the bills back up and tossed them into the living room.

Cuddy sighed. He was trying too hard to make up for what he did and she didn't like it. "House…really. I don't want your money."

"You're still getting it," he replied with a strange, diminutive smile that left Cuddy puzzled. Only a few days ago he was a complete emotional wreck and now he was up and alert and throwing money all over her home. She had seen him switch his moods and emotions like he was changing a shirt, but never to this degree. "I owe you something else," he went on, "but I'm not so sure you'll want it."

"What could you possibly owe me that isn't covered by the money you just threw into my living room?"

"The rest of what I owe you has nothing to do with money or price tags or broken mirrors."

"Well, what else is there?"

"Everything else."

"House…you're not making any sense," Cuddy said, getting exasperated at him and his secretiveness. "What else do you think you owe me?"

"Something I'm not sure you want or ever want…again."

"Again? I've had it before?"

"Yes, but I'm not so sure you'll want it now."

"Yes, you said that. How am I supposed to know if I'll want it or not if you won't give it to me? Why don't you just tell me what it is and let me be the judge."

"I can't tell you. I have to show you."

"Fine. Show me."

"You sure?"

House looked privately amused, leaving Cuddy to wonder if he was about to play some kind of practical joke on her.

Feeling brave, she said, "Yes, I'm sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"You asked for it," House said as he took a step forward, put his hand behind her neck and crushed his mouth against hers.

It was so sudden, so out of nowhere, that for a moment all Cuddy to do was stand there and feel his mouth moving against her mouth and his beard burning her chin and his other hand reach around her waist and pull her closer. The next thing she knew she was kissing House back and the room was spinning and she was breathless and her lungs felt ready to burst but she didn't care. Needing to be closer to him she threw her arms around his neck and it still wasn't close enough but that was fine because he was still kissing her.

When he finally broke away she couldn't trust her legs to hold her up and held on to him to keep from falling. He was looking at her expectantly--waiting for her to slap him, to throw him out, to yell at him for being such a pig. Like wanting to sleep in her bed, House just couldn't come out say it.

After catching her breath, Cuddy grinned and said, "I certainly wouldn't mind you giving me what you owe me again."

House was more than happy to oblige.