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House opened his eyes and turned slightly in bed. He looked to his left at Cuddy, who was still asleep beside him. Her face was soft and relaxed, and House's eyes traveled over her features. He started at her dark lashes, then moved on to the curve of her nose before settling on her partially parted lips.

The alarm clock sounded, dragging House out of his sleepy state and making him become aware of the pain in his thigh that seemed to force itself on his entire body. Cuddy stirred and rolled over in order to turn off the alarm.

Cuddy let out a yawn and turned back over to face House. Her eyes met his open ones as he looked at her, wishing the aches in his body would go away.

"Hey," Cuddy greeted him.

"Hey," House replied.

House wanted his Vicodin and he wondered if he would have an opportunity to get any. He would even be fine with just one pill. A frown crossed over his face as he grew certain he wouldn't have a chance at getting any Vicodin. He would have to continue to suffer through his pain.

Cuddy noticed the change in his face. "What's wrong?"

House looked toward the ceiling. "Are you staying home today?"

Cuddy's eyebrows drew together. "Yeah, why? What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

House sat up and immediately wished he didn't as a pressure began to pulse in his head. He pushed his covers off and placed his legs over the side of the bed, leaving his back to Cuddy. She frowned and sat up as well. She scooted closer to him and started to rub his back.

"What's wrong?" Cuddy asked him.

"I want my Vicodin," House spoke very low and Cuddy had to listen hard to hear him.

"You can't have it, Greg," she told him softly.

"I know," House snapped at her, raising his voice and shrugging her off. "I want to go to my place."

"I'll take you." Cuddy crawled alongside of him and climbed from the bed.

House stared down at his hands as his fingertips were pressed against each other.

"Alone," he said, not raising his eyes to look at her.

Cuddy stared down at him. "House..."

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. "You don't trust me?"

"No." Cuddy shook her head. "I don't. We go together or we don't go at all."

"Fine." House sighed and picked up his cane. "We'll go."

Cuddy leaned over House's coffee table as she ran a cloth across it, giving an attempt at trying to clean his apartment. House was at his piano, lightly playing with his eyes closed. He stopped mid song and grabbed his cane as he stood. Cuddy straightened and looked at him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

House began down the hallway, wincing in pain. "Bathroom."

Cuddy dropped the cloth to the table and hurried after him. House picked up his pace to try and out limp Cuddy. However, Cuddy was faster than House hoped and she reached the bathroom door before he had a chance to shut it.

House let out a sigh and limped over to the toilet. He rested his cane to the side and then cocked his head in Cuddy's direction.

He raised his eyebrows. "You gonna watch?"

"Do I have to?" Cuddy raised an eyebrow of her own.

"No," House answered, the word biting.

Cuddy turned her back to him.

"You're making me nervous, House," she confessed.

"Good," House replied as he pushed down his sweatpants and boxers.

Cuddy waited as she listened to the sound of House relieving himself. We he finished, he pulled his boxers and sweatpants back up and flushed the toilet. Cuddy turned back around as House limped toward the sink without his cane. He turned the water on.

"It would make me feel better." He refused to look at her and kept his hands moving underneath the water. "I just want one... for now. Just one and that's it. To make me feel less sick."

"You'll just feel sick again after it wears off," Cuddy told him.

"I want to do this my way," House said. "I can do this my way."

"This is your way," Cuddy pointed out.

House turned off the water and stared at his reflection in the mirror. "Just one Vicodin."

Cuddy shook her head. "No." She paused a moment. "I registered you for a rehab program. You'd stay at a facility."

House's head snapped in her direction. "What?"

"Just like you called an appointment for me for Harding," Cuddy replied.

"That was different." House raised his voice as he faced her now. "I can handle this!"

Cuddy folded her arms across her chest. "It doesn't look that way to me."

House limped over to his cane and picked it up. "I just have to stop craving and I can do that if you just give me-"

"No, House," Cuddy cut him off, not giving in.

House took two steps closer to her, but then stopped himself. "But, what about you?"

"What about me?" Cuddy asked him.

"I did this for you." House's voice had risen again. "I did this so you wouldn't have to think about your hell. And look at you, you're doing better while I'm dying over here because you won't let me have one damn pill."

Cuddy frowned at him, her arms uncrossing. "I'm not better. I'm learning to get there, but I'm not there. And you getting off drugs was for you, not me."

"That's not what happened," House told her.

A flash of anger crossed over Cuddy's face. "I asked you, and you told me-"

"Because I fucking care about you, Cuddy!" House shouted at her. "Because I would do anything to get your focus off yourself! Because I was the one that left you with that asshole. I was right fucking there."

"It's not-" Cuddy softened. "You didn't know." Cuddy waited for a reaction, but didn't receive one. "Greg..."

Cuddy made her way over to him, but he kept his eyes diverted from her. She slipped her arms alongside his waist and held onto him, her head resting against his chest. House looked down at her and then cautiously raised his free hand. He gently placed it on her back.

"You can do this," she encouraged him. "You're over the worst of it. You just need to know you don't need the Vicodin. You need to know you can live without it."

"My leg fucking kills," House said.

"I know." Cuddy placed her hand lightly to his hurt thigh.

House drew back slightly and then forced his lips upon hers, pressing too hard against her. She opened her mouth slightly, letting him in. His hand slipped down her back and cupped her buttocks. Cuddy pulled her mouth from his and took a step back.

"I can't do this." She shook her head slightly. "I want to-" She drew in a breath as she locked eyes with him. "Not like this."

House gave a slight nod, understanding. "I'll be at the piano. I need to sit."

He made his way out of the bathroom. Cuddy placed her fingertips to her lips, confused and uncertain, yet feeling that deep longing she always suppressed in his presence. The longing that seemed to have grown since the whole Neil incident happened.

The sound of the piano started again, still softly. Playing any louder would have made House's head hurt even more. Cuddy left the bathroom and walked down the hallway. She made her way over to the piano and sat on the bench next to House.

"You have a spot at rehab if you don't want to deal with this... with me," Cuddy told him.

House stopped his playing and looked over at her. "You could be punching me in your sleep and I'd still want to deal with you. Don't play the guilt card. You can't get rid of me."

"Right," Cuddy agreed, almost sadly. She still felt guilty for making House deal with her problems on top of his own. She wished she could make her guilt go away just by willing it to.

Leaning closer to her, House kissed her before turning back to the piano and lightly playing on the keys. He made sure the kiss was quick so she wouldn't reject him again. It wasn't that he was trying to play games with her, but he felt it was the most forthcoming way to show her that he cared. That he always would care.

"What is this?" Cuddy asked him, wanting to talk about the emotions they were both feeling for each other.

"I..."

House had so much he wanted to say to her. Honest things about how it scared him to think of not being around for her when she needed someone. About how he worried she would drive herself to a terrible place she couldn't come back from. About what his life would be like if she had been killed. How it would have scared him, destroyed him, killed him.

But, House couldn't voice those words. And he wasn't sure if he ever could. So, he shrugged and didn't make eye contact.

"I figured you wouldn't mind."

"Well... yeah... I don't. I guess."

Cuddy stood from the piano bench. She would have liked to talk about it, about everything, but they had other more pressing matters to focus on, she knew.

"Do you want coffee?" she asked him.

"Yeah." House began to play again. "Sure."

Cuddy gave a nod and made her way towards his kitchen.