AT LAST I AM BORN

House tilted his head down and rubbed the top of his nose, between his eyes. His head was pounding and the print on the report he was looking at seemed to be shrinking with each line. He turned and looked at his clock. It was a few minutes to nine. The sun had gone down ages ago and the small desk lamp wasn't providing enough light. He was just about to get up and switch on the overhead when the office lit up.

"You're going to go blind," Cuddy told him, sauntering in as she did.

"If only I could go deaf and never have to listen to you again."

She smiled. He was glad. "Listening to me is what makes you save lives."

House smiled back. He pushed his work aside, glad for a temporary reprieve. "If that's what you need to believe."

She was standing in front of him now, so close he could have reached out and pulled her to him. "Wilson came to see me." Any illusions he had of seducing her just got blown to pieces.

"And you came to reprimand me." House watched her expression. "Should I bend over?"

"Maybe later." There was that familiar glint in her eye. House practically swooned when he saw it. It had seemed so long ago that it was last there. Lately she'd been walking on egg shells around him, afraid to make even the slightest hint at innuendo lest he take it too seriously, at least that's why he supposed she'd stopped.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a threat." She looked away. The flame was obviously getting too hot for her. "How are you coming along with Mr. Abrams?" She had heard Wilson's plea, but she was on House's side this time. She was always on House's side. Wilson knew it, but felt obligated to state his case, just for the record. He hadn't actually expected anything to come of it.

"I am going to make this hospital famous," House replied excitedly. He had wanted to keep his possible discovery a secret from her. He wanted to surprise her, but he was too excited. He had found a direct link between the dark spot in Abrams head, which turned out to not actually be a tumor as such, and the cancer that was spreading through the man's body. It was a very thin thread of a link, but it was a link.

Cuddy listened intently as he explained. She loved seeing him like this, enthusiastic, excited about something. Nothing was more attractive to her than a man at the top of his game, loving what he was doing. She felt herself gravitating toward him, first leaning closer under the guise of wanting a closer look at the files, then slowly pressing closer to him.

They were working, which gave her the cover she needed to feel safe as his arm brushed against hers and her heart skipped a beat. There hadn't been many nights, since they fell back into bed together a few months ago, that she hadn't thought of him in some small way. There had been more than a few nights where she had woken up sweaty and out of breath the memory of him was so strong in her mind.

She couldn't tell him that. The look of smug satisfaction on his face would have been unbearable. Instead she would silently wonder if he had thought about her and if he ever wondered about what could have been.

"Are you even listening?" He had asked her a question and she had answered yes quickly. The problem was, it wasn't a question she would normally have answered yes to.

"What?" She looked up to see it was nearly eleven.

"I asked if you wanted to go to get a bite to eat. You said yes." He smiled. "Let's go."

"No." She looked panicked. She hadn't meant to say yes. She should have been paying attention instead of imagining what it would be like to take him right there on his desk. "I should get home, to Rachel."

"Rachel is sleeping. She won't know you're not there."

Cuddy wasn't sure if he meant that to be comforting, but it wasn't, especially since he was right. Rachel wouldn't know that her mother hadn't come home yet, nor would she think anything of it, since there were many nights when Mommy didn't come home before bedtime.

"I really should…"

"…come with me." House took her by the hand and dragged her toward the door. He was starving and he didn't want to eat alone. He always thought better when he had someone around to bounce ideas off of, someone who's own bad ideas made him come up with better ones. Cuddy was perfect for this. She was a thinker. She wasn't always right, but at least she wasn't afraid to be wrong.

Far too often his team backed down from their bad ideas because they needed to be right. He knew it was his fault for raising them that way, but that didn't dismiss how annoying it was at times. It was fine for the day to day differential, but this was a special case. This was a case he didn't want to share with his inexperienced team. This was a case he only wanted to share with her.

He looked over at her. They were in the car now, on their way to Denny's and she was on the phone. From the gist of the conversation House could tell she was informing her nanny she wouldn't be home for a few more hours. "I hope you pay her well."

"I pay her very well," Cuddy replied, not wanting to talk about her domestic situation, not with him.

House pretended to frown. "You don't pay me well."

"You're lucky I pay you at all."

"You'd rather I was your slave?" House could get into that.

"Don't give me ideas." Cuddy pointed to an all night diner and House swerved the car into the parking lot quickly.

"You're supposed to be giving me ideas." House grabbed his bag as they headed for the diner. His mind was racing with ideas. Why didn't Abrams have any speech problems?

"The non-tumor," which is what they had decided to call it until they could figure out what it really was, "seems to be in the lower part of the Wernicke's Area. Perhaps it is too low to impact speech." Cuddy was fiddling with her fork as she spoke. It was stopping her from reaching out and touching him.

"It is low." House took another look. "It's almost sitting on the cerebral artery. That's gotta be causing some damage."

"Enough to cause cancerous tumors to infect over 45% of his body?"

"Maybe." House didn't sound very sure.

"You don't expect me to sign off on any crazy tests based on a maybe do you?" She pulled together another forkful of salad.

"No, but you don't expect me to ask before I do my crazy tests do you?" He thought she was smarter than that.

She bit her lips in that way she did when he'd caught her in a truth she wanted to admit but didn't think she should. "No. Just don't kill him."

"He's already dying. It's not like I can do that much harm."

"House…" she was using her warning tone.

"With that attitude I don't think I'm going to be comfortable naming this disease the Cuddy-House Disease. You were this close," he held his fingers tightly pressed together, "to being famous."

A slow, teasing smile spread over her face. "You would have put my name first?"

"No!" House looked at her, suddenly aware of what he'd said. "I was just thinking alphabetically."

"You put someone else before yourself. That rehab center has changed you." It was a nice change.

"It has not! I was just stroking your ego…so you would stroke my…"

She blushed and looked away. "Do you really think you've discovered a new disease?" She was worried he was getting his hopes up too high and was headed for a severe crash, which she would have to pick up the pieces of.

"Don't you?" He looked crestfallen.

"I just…"

"Don't want me to get hurt."

"Don't want your head getting any bigger than it already is." She joked, trying to back away from the truth.

"Oh, it's getting bigger." He shoved a piece of sausage into his mouth.

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"What are you going to do for me if I do discover a new disease and make your little hospital famous?"

"I'll give you a raise."

"I was hoping for something more…personal." He smiled that smile he knew made her go all gooey inside.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." She wasn't ready to commit to such a thing, but she didn't really want to dismiss it either. It was nice having that door open.

"What would you do if I turn back to drugs?"

"What?" Things had been going so nicely that his question took her by surprise. She didn't like feeling this disoriented. "You're not…"

"No." He saw the panic in her face and was sorry he had brought it up. "But if I did, would you fire me this time?"

She blinked at him a few times before the words got processed in her mind. "You're worried about your job?" She sounded hurt.

"I'm worried about a lot of things, but it's easier to talk about my job." He wasn't talking about his job. He was talking about her. He wasn't asking if she'd fire him. He was asking if she'd stop loving him.

"I won't fire you House. You know that." And they both knew what she meant. "I'll never find a doctor who could replace you."

House smiled weakly. He knew she wasn't talking about the hospital. Finally he knew it. Finally he could see clearly enough to see the truth in her eyes. The haze of pain killers no longer blinded him to the fact that she couldn't live without him, not just professionally but personally. "That's something you won't have to worry about, because Dr. Fry explained to me that there are many ways to relieve the pain. He said that, if I explore these alternatives, find one that works for me, then I won't feel the urge to return to Vicodin to alleviate the pain." He reached his hand across the table and placed his fingers beside hers, his index finger slipping over hers in a Houseian handhold.

"Did you? Find one that works?" She knew exactly where this was headed and happily guided it along.

"There is one activity I found that helps, but I can't do it by myself."

Cuddy grinned. "Oh, I'm pretty sure you can, and have, frequently."

"Yeah, but it's not the same." House quickly called for the check and paid. Cuddy found this to be quite a big gesture for the penny pincher, even if it was just Denny's. "Come home with me." He was holding her hand. He'd taken it when he helped her out of the booth and hadn't let go since. Now they were standing in front of her car.

"I have to go home." She didn't want to.

"You have a nanny." He wasn't going to make it easy for her.

"Your car is at the hospital." She was grasping at straws now.

"I can get it tomorrow." He pulled her close. She felt his breath on her face, warm and inviting. "Come home with me," he breathed onto her cool skin. "I need you tonight."

Cuddy leaned forward, her lips parted slightly, her eyes closed. House watched as her lips pressed against his. He leaned against the car, worried he would fall over as his head spun. He had imagined this moment for the past two months. It was what kept him at Mayfair. It's what kept him sober.

And now it was happening. She didn't feel sorry for him, she wasn't drunk. She was going home with him because she wanted him, because she loved him. He saw it in her eyes. It had always been there, if he'd been brave enough to look, but he hadn't, until now. And now that he'd looked, and seen the love in her eyes, he never wanted to look away again.