By the time Cuddy arrived at House's apartment, Wilson had already gone.

She found herself both relieved and disappointed.

It would feel really good to give that asshole a piece of my mind!

But that could wait until the following morning. Right now, House needed her. She knocked on his door, waiting patiently and listening for any response. When at first there was none, she felt an uneasy sense of quiet alarm.

Surely he wouldn't have gone somewhere with Wilson? Wilson wouldn't have dared – not now – right?

"House?" she called out, barely managing to control the edge of panic in her voice. "House, it's me. Open the door."

A few more moments of tense silence passed – before at last she heard the lock turning, and the door opened.

House looked terrible.

His eyes were wide and fearful, his expression lost and weary, as he stepped back on trembling legs and allowed her entrance to his apartment. She took the door from his hand, closing it firmly and locking it behind her before turning to face him fully. She met his eyes in a compassionate look that bore no need for words, before taking a step to close the distance between them and gently wrapping her arms around him.

She knew it had to be bad when he neither rejected her affection, nor tried to turn it into an attempt at sexual harassment.

She withdrew after a few moments, looking up into his eyes with concern. "Are you okay?"

House shrugged, his eyes downcast, looking very uncomfortable and self-conscious. "I'm fine." He nodded once – not at all convincingly.

Cuddy studied his expression for a long moment, a troubled frown creasing her brow as she raised a hand to brush it across his cheek. Her tone was gently knowing as she reminded him softly, "You are doing the right thing, House. This is the only way to stop him – because you know by now, he's not going to stop on his own."

House nodded again, blinking rapidly, and Cuddy tactfully looked away, giving him one last quick hug before making her way toward the kitchen. For House to be so near to tears – and so incapable of concealing them – was a deeply disconcerting development indeed. She didn't want to humiliate him by calling attention to those tears, so she decided to busy herself elsewhere.

"Have you eaten?" she asked over her shoulder, not waiting for the answer she already knew. "I'll make us some lunch, okay?"

She stayed with him all day, and through the night that followed, just keeping him company. They watched television, and talked about the various gossip and goings on at the hospital, and basically just passed the time together. Cuddy didn't say it, but they both knew that she was afraid to leave him – afraid that if he was left alone, Wilson might come back.

Or House might just break down and call him back.

The fact that House never once reassured her that that would not happen spoke volumes as to his own fear of that very same thing.

House graciously offered Cuddy the bed that night – not without a lascivious comment or two about "sharing" that she knew he didn't really mean at all – but Cuddy simply retorted that she wouldn't dream of stealing the cripple's bed; what kind of a doctor would she be if she could do a thing like that?

Once again, the underlying reasoning was clear to both of them.

If she slept in House's room and he on the couch, it would be easy for Wilson to slip in or for House to slip out. By sleeping on the couch, Cuddy was effectively making herself a guard to protect House – both from Wilson and from himself.

*****************************

The next morning, Cuddy left House to go to the hospital, bracing herself for the confrontation she knew she had to have with Wilson. She instructed him to stay home and keep his doors locked until she had talked to Wilson and gained some idea of his state of mind, and whether or not he was still angry and out of control enough to break the restraining order and come after House.

When Wilson hadn't come by her office by ten o'clock, Cuddy made her way up to his office to see if he had come in yet. She found him standing behind his desk, loading his personal effects into a cardboard box. She blinked in surprise, standing in the doorway, not quite believing her eyes.

She hadn't expected him to go nearly so easily.

He glared at her from behind his desk, his jaw working with repressed anger as he tossed a ceramic figure someone had given him rather carelessly into the box, not reacting to the ominous clinking sound of glass against glass. He reached for something on the desk beside the box before moving around the desk and holding it out to Cuddy – a narrow, white envelope, unsealed.

Cuddy opened it, not really surprised at this point to find a formal resignation letter inside. She glanced over it, noting the rather generic wording, citing "personal issues" as his reason for terminating his employment. She looked up at him, studying him for a moment as he continued packing his things.

"You know you're lucky I'm accepting this at all," she informed him in a frosty tone of accusation.

"Don't." Wilson's voice trembled with anger.

Perversely, it only made Cuddy want to provoke him more.

Let's see you just try and lay a hand on me, here. See how much power you have in this situation, you abusive bastard.

"I'm serious," she insisted, a challenge in her tone, almost daring him to try something. "I could easily tear this up and fire you on the spot for what you've done. Leave you with a huge black mark on your personal record that would keep you from finding another job at any reputable hospital in the country."

Wilson stopped his packing, looking up at her with smoldering resentment in his eyes. "Gloating seems a little beneath you," he snapped. "You just feel the need to state the obvious?"

"No," Cuddy countered, smiling, unfazed by his scathing hostility. She slowly paced nearer to him, her eyes narrowed in warning as she held his gaze. She paused, weighing each word for maximum impact when at last she slowly continued. "If you ever touch House again… I will make sure that finding a new job is the least of your worries."

She was gratified by the brief flash of fear she saw in Wilson's eyes, and the knowledge that he knew exactly what she was threatening. As much as he tried to pretend that what had happened between him and House was no big deal – just a momentary lapse in which he'd lost his temper – he knew very well that what he had done already was more than enough to not only end his career, but also put him in prison for a few years.

His jaw worked with repressed rage, but Wilson didn't dare to argue with her on her point. After a moment he simply turned pointedly away from her, continuing to toss his possessions into the box with far greater force than was necessary. Content that her point had been made, Cuddy turned as well and left the room, making her way back toward her own office.

Once she had disappeared down the hall, Wilson stood there for a moment, struggling to rein his fury under his control. His fists trembled at his sides as her condescending, accusing words played over and over in his mind. Finally, Wilson's rage overwhelmed him, and he picked up a ceramic teddy bear from the box and hurled it across the room, taking perverse satisfaction in the shattering sound as it collided with the wall.

She can't do this to me. Neither of them can. House is mine, and no one can keep him from me!

****************************

House was grateful for the rather intriguing case of his current patient, unusual enough to provide him with sufficient distraction for the day. He needed to keep his mind off of Wilson, and the doubtful thoughts that plagued him, making him wonder whether or not he was making the right choice, whether or not he should just call Wilson and tell him to come home.

Deep down, he knew better – but there were moments when that knowledge didn't feel like it was going to be enough to make him stay away from the danger that Wilson had come to present.

Young Clancy and the fact that alien abduction was actually beginning to sound like a viable diagnosis option in his case were, thankfully, a sufficient distraction.

Too bad I'm so good, House thought with a little smirk that swiftly faded as he settled behind his desk at the end of the day. Now I need a new distraction.

As if on cue, at that moment, a shadow passed over his doorway, blocking out the light from the hall and drawing his attention. House tried to ignore the uneasy somersaults in his stomach and his own slight flinch before he looked up and realized who was there.

Just Cuddy. Nothing to worry about.

The look of sympathetic sadness on her face made House feel a rush of embarrassed irritation, and he rolled his eyes as he leaned casually back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head.

"Aww, you're checking up on me," he drawled with false gratitude. "That'd be sweet if it wasn't so patronizing."

Cuddy did not seem bothered by his hostility. She walked around his desk and leaned against the edge of it, patiently holding his gaze despite his mockery. "I like to think I know how to be both at the same time," she remarked with a little shrug.

House couldn't help but smile a little at that, letting out a soft huff of teasing amusement. "Yeah, I'd say that's an act you've got down pat."

Cuddy laughed easily, though the laugh and the smile that accompanied it soon faded away, her expression becoming solemn and concerned.

"Have you seen Wilson today?"

House blinked, startled by the question, his stomach lurching in response to its implications. He somehow managed to keep his voice steady as he countered with another question.

"He's here?"

"He was," Cuddy clarified, her eyes narrowed slightly in speculation at his reaction. "Just to pick up his things."

House's eyes widened at that. "You fired him?"

"I told him I would if he laid another hand on you." She paused, amending her words with a half-shrug. "Actually, I told him I would if he continued a relationship with you at all." Something dark and regretful flashed in her eyes as she added softly, "And I should have stuck to that. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened..."

"And maybe if I hadn't been a moron who'd fallen for him over and over again, then you wouldn't have had to make that call in the first place."

Cuddy seemed startled by his blunt, straightforward words -- far more direct and open about his own responsibility for the whole affair than she had heard him about anything, ever before.

"We've both made mistakes," she finally concluded, her tone slow and cautious. "But hopefully that's all in the past. We've learned from them, and we've put Wilson out of our lives... and we can start to... recover."

House knew that she was only using the plural pronoun to camouflage words that might otherwise have come across as patronizing and overly mothering. She didn't have any recovering to do, really; but she was clearly determined to make sure that he found a way to get past this and get his life back. Ordinarily, he would have found the gentle intrusion irritating and embarrassing.

In this instance, he found that he was strangely grateful for it.

"Well, I've got a couple of meetings to get through this afternoon," Cuddy said after a few moments of silence that wasn't quite awkward. "I just wanted to check and make sure that... that everything was going all right, and... that Wilson actually left when I told him to."

House nodded once in acceptance of her words, affirming, "Haven't seen him."

"Good." Cuddy smiled, standing up straight and walking back around the desk. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

She didn't wait to hear him insist that he wouldn't.

House wanted to feel annoyance at her meddling, but somehow he just couldn't. He knew that she meant well, and he also knew that without her interference, he might very well be dead right now.

Wilson had pushed matters farther than ever before with the shooting, albeit accidental; and House knew that ending their relationship was the only thing he could do to protect himself. Still, if he hadn't called Cuddy when Wilson received the restraining order, House wasn't sure what might have happened.

He was fairly certain that he would have ended up letting Wilson into his apartment.

And what Wilson might have done then -- well, House didn't really want to think about it.

No, it's good that she's looking out for you, whether you like it or not, he admitted to himself at last with a private, affectionate smile toward the woman who was no longer there. Since apparently you're no good at looking out for yourself.