A/N: OMG this took forever to upload. I've said it once, and I'll say it again people - if you are on LJ at all (even if you're not) you should got to my LJ for fic updates. The link is on my profile page. Not only do I post stuff there that I don't here - I also respond to reviews there and may actually give you updates on what the hell is going on with the fic in the long breaks between updates, lol. This one is totally for Alias424 - who I always promise chap[ters too but she beats me in updating and guilts me into finally hammering out the pesky details of this chapter.

She was here ridiculously early. When her alarm had gone off and she had rolled over to see a bright sunny day so at odds with her current mood, she had decided to forego her usual run and go straight into work instead. Sometimes she worried about her sanity – a normal person would have gone back to sleep. But she was here – and working her way through ER reports when a file caught her eye. She paused, frowning as she read it with interest. Her hand was reaching for the phone and dialling before her eyes even reached the bottom of the page.

It rang five times before anyone answered. "Hello?" It was a harried sounding Wilson – slightly breathless as if he had been running for the phone and she rolled her eyes unseen. House was probably right next to the receiver.

"Good morning Dr. Wilson." She spoke with a smile, her fingers aimlessly flicking the corner of the folder back and forth.

"Dr. Cuddy – good morning. Was there something you needed- I mean is this professional or personal?"

"Professional – but I was looking for House. Is he around?"

"One second." There was a muffled thump and she could hear footsteps followed by faint knocking. After a minute or so the phone was picked up and Wilson's voice was apologetic. "I –uh – don't think he's up yet, Cuddy."

"Uh huh." She nodded, knowing that he was probably ignoring Wilson's summons and the phone. "Fine. Got a good case waiting for him when he finally drags his ass in here though."

"Really? I can give him the message – what have you got?" She could hear cupboards opening and closing as he asked and she glanced back down at the file in her hand.

"Teenage girl – came in suffering from anaphylactic shock."

"You know that's not interesting to him." Wilson snorted slightly under his breath and she laughed in agreement.

"She had a heart transplant six months ago- and is still in a clean room." She finished and he drew in a breath.

"Why would she still be in a clean room – wait. What would have caused a reaction?" She could practically hear his frown and she released her breath in a short burst.

"Not our job to figure it out. Tell him to come see me when he gets in for the file. I'll hold it here."

"You could just give it to Cameron-"

"I'll hold it here Wilson." She spoke again firmly. "I'll see you later. Oh and don't be late Dr. Wilson." She hung up without waiting for a response, and opened her drawer, dropping the file inside with a tiny smile.

He showed up two hours later, pushing open her office door with the rubber tip of his cane and peering in furtively, as if standing at the mouth of the lion's den. When he saw nothing but her, sitting behind her desk surrounded by piles of files, he wandered in slowly, dropping into the chair sullenly.

She didn't look up. She didn't look at him, or stare when he leaned forward, resting his chin on his cane and staring down the front of her shirt. Hard. "I heard…" he whispered in a melodramatic tone which she rolled her eyes at equally hard, "You have a package for me?"

She did look up at that, sighing impressively and causing his eyes to immediately drop down to her cleavage again. Jerking open the drawer silently, she pulled the file out. He held a hand out waiting patiently, but instead of handing it over, she stood. She pulled her suit jacket on, buttoning it one handed before moving again. Walking around her desk, she held the file in hand and didn't look back at him as she sailed out of the office. It only took a few seconds before she heard the tell tale thump of his cane.

"It's rude to run ahead of a cripple you know." He spoke behind her as he followed her out of the clinic and through the lobby.

"It's also rude to stare at someone's ass but it doesn't seem to be stopping you." She spoke without looking over her shoulder, pressing the elevator button and waiting as he slid to a stop beside her.

"Well who wouldn't stare? It takes up two thirds of my field of vision." He reached across her for the file, but she lifted her arm up and away from her body finally glaring at him.

"Don't grab." The elevator doors opened and the stepped in together. She pressed the button and finally handed him the file, indulging in a momentary chuckle as the elevator lurched up and the file was slammed into his chest with a little more force than necessary. He opened it eagerly, ignoring her for the time being – and she watched the numbers slowly ascend as he muttered to himself.

"Four days of lab work ups? Why didn't I get this earlier?" He frowned over at her and she returned his look.

"You never work more than one case at a time." She neglected to mention that she had just received the case herself for distribution. What he didn't know…

"I have. On occasion! There was that one time I-" he stopped abruptly, frowning and she smiled in triumph.

"Uh huh." She stepped out of the elevator almost before the doors has slid open enough to allow her room, sailing through the small gap and moving down the hall toward his office.

"Hey." He shouted after her, following almost just as quickly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm coming in to listen to the differential." She had stopped just outside the door and he pushed a hand against it, preventing her entrance as he asked the question. His fellows were staring through the door with confused expression.

"Any reason why?" He shifted closer to the door and she rolled her eyes.

"Because."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The kind that says this entire damn hospital is mine and I can do whatever the hell I want in it." She ground out through her teeth as he smirked down at her.

"You know – if you wanted to spend more quality time together I can suggest a nice empty patient's room. Or a broom closet. Or my bed. Unless you're into being watched because in that case-" She jerked the door handle hard enough to force him back, ignoring his grin as she passed through it and leaned against the wall by the door. He moved in more slowly, tossing the file on the table and staring at the other occupants of the room. "Sorry you had to see that kids. Neither one of loves you any less – I just want you to know that." He moved into the room, holding a hand up to his face. "Except of course – your Mom. She never wanted you."

They ignored him, poring over the file instead. "She had an allergic reaction in a clean room?" Chase spoke aloud, reading over Cameron's shoulder.

"Why did she have a clean room in her house?" Cameron spoke with a frown as House made his way back to where she was leaning by the door.

"Heart transplant. Immune system's in the toilet, Mommy builds her little angel and John Travolta quality bubble." He threw over his shoulder as he walked.

"Six months after her transplant, she doesn't need to be confined to a clean room." Foreman pointed out the obvious and House threw him a look as he arrived at her side, standing with her and facing the room.

"Six months without putting out and Dr. Cuddy doesn't need to wear thong panties, but it's not our call." She glared at him in exasperation.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to my panties." He looked at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to smile, continuing instead. "She's had four days of work ups. They've tested everyone who came anywhere near that room and everything in the room." He wandered over to the sink, turning at her words.

"It's like an Agatha Christie mystery." He spoke sarcastically and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him and transferring her gaze to the fellows.

"Maybe it's not what was there – it was what she was doing." Chase piped up, trying to be helpful and House glared at him for his effort.

"Exercise allergy. Love it." He poured his coffee and put on a thoughtful face. "Now what sort of exercise could a strapping young man and a nubile teenage nymphet possibly be—"

"Mom was in the room within seconds." She interjected quietly and his eyes met hers for a second as he smiled slightly before picking up sugar and shaking the packet vigorously.

"So the boyfriend brought in an allergen and is lying about it." Chase offered.

"Or the girl snuck out and she's lying about that." Cameron put in.

"Or the parents are lying about the room being clean." House turned around with his red coffee mug in hand.

"These are your big ideas?" She spoke incredulously, not knowing exactly why she was so upset to learn that House had finally trained his fellows down into mini-me's. "Somebody's lying?"

He peered under the low hanging light over the conference table and watched her for a moment. "Hasn't let me down yet." He took a sip of coffee before speaking again. "Recheck the mom, the dad, the boy, the girl, the room and the home." The other three stood immediately and filed out of the room, streaming past her as he watched with a slight smirk. When the door closed behind them she frowned over at him. "Was it everything you imagined?"

She ignored his question, walking over to him and sighing slightly. "Why does everyone always have to be lying?"

"Because it's human nature. You lie. I lie. And not just to each other – to ourselves. It's what we do." He shrugged, taking another sip and she wanted to be angry, but instead just nodded in agreement. Wasn't that what she was doing right now? Lying to herself – lying to him. She reached up, taking his mug from his hands and taking a sip. He pulled a face at her. "Oh ew. We are not on that personal of a level, Cuddy."

"Oh. Well then I guess I'll just keep this then-" She pulled the mug away and he snatched it back carefully.

"I'm also not deterred enough to give up my coffee. Get your own." She pouted slightly, leaning against the table lightly.

"I suppose it would be ridiculous and time wasting of me to tell you to keep me updated?"

"Yes, but I can admire your ass in that skirt some more while you do it – so really it's only a waste of time for you."

"How are you feeling?" He had sat down next to her on the sofa in her office, peering at her anxiously. She stared up at him in confusion. "No really. How are you feeling? Any aches? Change of season sniffles?"

"House," she sighed heavily – tired, and annoyed by her life in general. She was suddenly feeling the guilt of not having run that morning and contemplating a gym visit on the way home as she stared blindly at the paper scattered around the table in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

"She's allergic to penicillin." He tossed a pill in his mouth as he spoke, palming it as she watched the practised ease of the movement and wished it wasn't so… graceful.

"Yeah thanks. I did read that." She responded dryly and he leaned back, sinking into the sofa.

"Boyfriend had sex with her – wanted to be safe – not in the condom sense of course, but in the I'll take some drugs and get all the bad out sense."

She listened, sighing softly. "Penicillin?" He nodded and she shook her head on a short laugh. "How exactly are you going to explain that to the parents?"

"Not my problem. Kid didn't even know that medicine goes everywhere in your body. Speaking of-" he popped his head up, looking her up and down. "-you sure you don't have a headache or any aches and pains? I did just take a painkiller-" She smacked him before he could even finish.

"No pain. Not until you walked in that is."

"Oh you like it. Masochist."

"Sadist." She muttered back and he grinned lazily over at her.

"Perfect pair then. Although, really – I think it would be the other way around. You enjoy hurting others much more I think." He spoke in a casual tone and she smiled in the soft lighting.

"Not others, House. Just you." His smile widened and he nodded. "Now go home to your wife. I have paperwork to finish." He snorted softly, but didn't object as he stood, pausing at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Seriously though – if you get a cough, or a fever – if you sneeze. Just call me. I'll write the prescription." She didn't respond, inwardly laughing as the door shut softly behind him.

"I can't connect them." She didn't even have time to say hello – though she doubted it would have mattered anyway – before he started speaking.

"You are aware that you should wait to see if it's me before talking?"

"Why – are you telling me someone else would answer your phone?" His voice was soft, but laced with a sharp edge she no intention of dancing upon.

"Connect what?" she asked instead, listening to his sigh filter down the line and the rustle of papers.

"Heart failure and anaphylaxis," he muttered, and she heard more rustling and the steady one, two of his indrawn breath. She knew he didn't really need her to speak – didn't really expect her to magically know the answer. He just needed feedback. "It can't be unrelated. It makes no sense to be unrelated, but what in the hell relates them?"

"What about Tako-Tsubo?"

"But the anaphylactic shock responded to epi. It wouldn't do that if it wasn't actually anaphylactic right?" he mused, and she nodded, despite being sight unseen. "Why didn't you yell at me today?" She could hear the unmistakable sound of something being tossed onto a surface – a soft muted thwack in the distance as his voice lowered a notch and she shivered at the sound.

"Why would I?"

"Girl got worse. Had a heart attack – almost died..." he trailed off deliberately and the corner of her mouth twisted up awkwardly as she listened.

"Did you cause any of that?"

"Well no-"

"I don't yell at you for fun House." She stated softly, her smile spreading slightly. More of a wry twist now than anything as she folded her legs under her, and pushed the book she had been pretending to read off to the side. Her eyes wandered over to her bookshelf, wondering if she should have picked something more thrilling – less romantic. Less boring. None of it rang true – an entirely too perfect guy meeting an improbably young girl – none of that mattered in real life. None of it happened – at least not to her.

"Liar. You say no but your eyes and heaving bosom always say yes."

"House-"she spoke in what might have been considered a warning tone. If you hadn't ever met her.

"Plus I figured you'd jump at the opportunity to yell now – when I can't be distracted by your heaving, rounded, creamy-"

"House!" She spoke much more sharply now even if she had to fight a full fledged smile as she did so, the laughter causing his name to tumble out of her throat in a shaking voice.

"Foreman thinks they're unrelated." Just like that he had snapped back to the case, back to the problem at hand and always in the back of his mind. He had a need to know – and not just a figurative one, but a literal one. He had to know. To save the patient yes – but even if not… he would still need to know.

"You don't agree." She stated the obvious, and heard his breath released down the line. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it tickle her skin.

"It doesn't feel right. Something – I feel like I'm missing something." She didn't speak after he did, and they fell into silence – not uncomfortable but not quite at ease either. His breathing soothed her and she sank further down into her couch, letting her eyes close. He seemed content not to talk and she didn't press him, just accompanying him in silence for a while. When he did speak again, her eyes shot open and she jerked slightly at the sudden noise of his heavy sigh. "I suppose I should let Wilson in. Hey if I put you on speakerphone – would you pant and moan loudly for me?"

"Let Wilson in? House what are you – what did you do?"

"Relax Mom, just some good old fashioned fun. I wonder of I should drape a dirty sock just for fun-" he was muttering at this point and she rolled her eyes, not really wanting to know what in the hell they were both doing.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She spoke after listening to him mutter for a few more minutes.

"Hopefully you'll be angry." He growled slightly at the end and she was laughing when she finally hung u p – without saying goodbye, as usual – there just never seemed to be any point.

She didn't see him that day though. Not technically. Not until long after midnight – after the family of his patient had come to her in tears – not until after she stepped in on his case and ordered the MRI the family wanted – needed. She knew House would be notified – Chase was the one working after all.

So she called Wilson just before going down to the MRI. When he answered he sounded embarrassed – and had clearly expected a different type of call. "Of all the juvenile – God you'd think-"

"Dr. Wilson." She interrupted quickly, her breathing uneven and rushed.

"So sorry – I thought you were…" he coughed lightly and trailed off. "Did you need something?"

"Need a consult."

"On House's case?" Wilson spoke sharply, his voice oddly high and squeaking. She frowned at the phone for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Of course on House's case." She spoke evenly and continued when he didn't speak. "Look – you and I both know it's coming down to the wire for this girl. The parents want an MRI. I'm giving them one – but you and I also know House will have other ideas… what I need for you to do-"

She hadn't been wrong. Predictably – although House would hate to hear that word applied to him in any way – he interrupted her MRI, pestering the patient with questions about botulism. It wasn't botulism – but he was desperate. Anyone in the room could smell the fear.

She didn't stop him from talking to the girl though, knowing he would figure it out. Banking on it actually. Wilson delivered his lines perfectly – flawlessly and even the parents were convinced. The only snag hit when House almost pushed her off that elevator. There was no way she was not getting on it – especially since Wilson was nowhere near close enough. House would come off with a lawsuit. He usually did.

She had to duck under his cane – and in a skirt too, he would pay for that later – and watched the doors close on the parent's horrified faces and Wilson's knowing one. "Did he just help me? Cause if I were him..." he mused, only to be brought to a halt as she hit the emergency stop button and he shot her a shocked look.

"Please tell me you're sure about this." Her voice was a plea and he didn't bother arguing, giving a short nod as she began pulling a syringe out of her pocket.

"If I'm not sure, she's dead." He spoke grimly and she held her breath for a moment, holding the syringe in the IV, hesitating for a moment. "What's seems more likely Cuddy- that all of these symptoms are unrelated or that one moronic doctor missed something he shouldn't have?" His eyes met hers and she nodded slightly – agreeing with something he hadn't said and she hadn't heard – and her finger depressed the plunger slowly.

"Hurry."

He was already searching her skin, peering through her hair. "Like you just happened to have atropine?" Her eyes were glued to the monitor and he shot her a look. "This would be quicker if you helped."

She jumped slightly at his words, moving down and checking the girls' neck and shoulders – all bare and smooth - free from blemishes. The chest was the same too – aside from the six month old scar that no teenage girl should have. "House – her heart rate is at 40."

"Check her ears, her armpits – everywhere." He snapped at her, his voice strained and rushed.

"We have. She's not improving – there is no tick and-" she was yelling now, her voice loud and angry as she watched the number on the monitors drop further still.

"There has to be!" He was yelling loudly now too – shaking the girl slightly. "Was that your first time having sex?" She didn't respond, simply passing out as her heart rate finally dipped below 35. He growled, and pushed the blankets up as she hit the button to send the elevator back in motion. He glared at her over her knees but she shrugged unapologetically.

"If you're wrong-"

"You check her. If those doors open and I'm the one down there..." he laughed slightly and she pushed around the bed, pressing him against the wall of the elevator as she leaned down to inspect the girl carefully. She was sifting through, deeper and deeper when she saw it. She vaguely heard the doors slid open and angry voices, felt House push from behind her, stepping in front of her but by then she had the small bug in the tweezers and had stood up, holding it like some white flag of cease fire.

They wheeled her out much more slowly, and she and House were ignored as Foreman took the patient off to the ICU with the still visibly upset parents. She and Wilson shared a look as House took the tweezers from her and she stripped her gloves off with a sigh.

"You were supposed to be on there- not me-" she hissed at him as House walked back slowly.

"Foreman is pushy and runs fast. I can't believe you kept up with him in those-" Wilson was hissing back but they both shut up as House reappeared and an awkward silence descended. She pulled back abruptly, teetering in her high heels – a spare pair she kept in her office with an outfit for days when she didn't make it home to change – but they were an uncomfortable pair.

"I'll be down in ICU... hopefully convincing the parents not to sue us for everything we have." She growled, glaring at House for good measure as she did so. It was hardly his fault and she had even initiated most – if not all – of what had occurred, but she felt better for the glare anyway.

"Mention how their daughter is you know, not going to die. Maybe it'll help." He shrugged and she glared once more before turning on her heel and following down the same path Foreman had just taken, shaking her head and wondering when in the hell she had lost her mind.

She found him waiting in her office, sitting on the sofa, with his hand rubbing along his leg as he stared off into space. She stepped into the room quietly – dying for the biggest cup of coffee on the face of the planet – or barring that – a nap, and sank down next to him with a sigh. "She's doing much better. And they're not suing."

"That's good." His voice was distracted, and he continued to stare off in the distance as he spoke. She had wandered back down from the ICU – stopping on a few of the floors, including maternity. She had stood in front of the glass for a moment, realizing just how long it had been since she'd been there last. Her life was slipping by too quickly – she wanted to grab it, grip it tightly and force it to slow down.

She didn't say any of this though, simply laid her head back and wondered if she could at all possibly clear her schedule a bit this afternoon for a short nap. Or time to just… be. She sighed softly without knowing it, and he finally glanced over at her his eyes thoughtful. "Wilson broke my cane. Filed halfway through it." He was smiling as he said it, so she guessed he wasn't too upset about it – but Lord only knew what House had done to deserve the retaliation in the first place.

"I liked that one."

"You did?" He turned his head toward her in surprise and she nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice wood – and before you make that dirty I meant the grain. The color. Oh just shut up." She was shaking by the time she stopped speaking – from fatigue and repressed laughter as he arched a brow in her direction.

"I knew you liked the hard wood." He joked softly, but it lacked their usual wit and conviction. He had no real reason to be in her office, she had no real reason to want him to stay – none she would admit anyway. But at the moment they had no one to explain it to – so they were sitting much too close on her sofa, and they were comfortable with defying explanation. "I need a new one. So I'm leaving."

"Right this second?" she responded, turning her head to look at him again.

"No. I was hoping I could convince you to play hooky."

"Not gonna happen." She spoke wistfully, thinking of her full schedule and the three meetings she had that day.

"You didn't even go home last night. Did you get any sleep?"

"Did you?" The best defence was often a good frontal assault with him.

"No way I can convince you to come with me? Not even a little bit?" she shook her head even before he was finished speaking and he looked at her seriously for a moment. "But the cane is such an important tool in our relationship – how am I supposed to know which one turns you on?"

"Oh they all do. It's what I live for."

"I knew it. Makes a man much more confident – but we'll have to keep you away from the rehab floor." Her mouth twisted slightly at that and she shook her head to clear it.

"I have three meetings today." Her voice was suspiciously close to a whine and he smiled slightly across at her.

"You have to go."

"Hmmm." He stood and she looked up at him from where she was still taking one more minute – five more minutes – to relax.

"Nice touch with Wilson today. Inamrinone can cause arrhythmia and thrombocytopenia. All those big doctor words must have hurt your pretty little head." She glared at him as he had his hand on the door, awkwardly unbalanced with no cane at his side.

"What are you talking about?" she spoke tiredly, knowing full well what he meant, but she wasn't about to give in and tell him it was planned.

"Uh huh. Like Wilson ever comes up with these devious little plots on his own. It's all you-" he tapped his nose and shuddered before pulling the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow El Diablo." She didn't get a chance to open her mouth or even get a word in edgewise as he disappeared from her doorway. She sighed, glaring at the clock on the wall above her. Her five minutes were up.