Gregory House knew he was no saint. He could lie, cheat, steal and play mind games without blinking an eye. His moodiness was the stuff of legends. His arrogance was matched only by his drug addiction.
But he had changed. Subtle changes, but changes nonetheless. Not that it mattered to the rest of the world and not that he cared what the rest of the world thought. The only thing that mattered was the one person he was willing to make those changes for. She had noticed. He had counted on that.
Still when all was said and done he wasn't sure he was deserving of a happy ending. Years and years of pain, misery, loneliness–they became the only thing he knew. The sad thing was he had grown to accept it, accept the fact that he was going to live out the rest of his years as the bitter, angry man he had turned into. Strangely it was the very same bitterness and anger that had brought him to her front door. And she had let him in.
No, he didn't deserve a happy ending. But Lisa Cuddy did.
"I knew I would end up being a patient here sooner or later," Cuddy grumbled thickly as House handed her a cup of water. "But not like this."
"Would you rather be in another hospital?" House asked, deliberately teasing her a bit to try and lighten the mood.
"Hell no." She gulped down the water, then handed him the cup for a refill.
"The best care from the best doctors, Lisa."
"I don't want the best care. I just want to get the hell out of here."
"You'll be out of here before you know it."
"Not soon enough." She glanced down at her broken hand and frowned. "I'm no good to anyone just laying here and doing nothing."
"Lisa," House began with an impatient sigh, "you're not going to be any good to anybody if you get up before you're ready. Just relax."
"And then what?"
"What what? What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about why we're in the damn hospital to begin with," Cuddy answered tersely, her tired eyes now casting a stony, knowing glare at him.
The cup and pitcher nearly ended up decorating the floor when those words hit his ears. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk about any of it, not now. Later, after the dust had settled, when the mess was cleaned up, when the cops had dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's. But not now. He just wanted to talk with her about the weather, the job, what they were going to have for lunch, anything else. With shaking hands the cup refilled and handed over. He set the pitcher down before he wound up dropping it. "If you're expecting an apology over what I did, you're not getting it. I'm not going to lose any sleep over it. I'm not going to shed one goddamned tear over her. I can still look at myself in the mirror every morning. It was her or us."
"I saw everything," she said. "I was there, remember? This time I saw everything I needed see."
"This time?" he puzzled.
"This isn't the first time I nearly lost you, Greg." Her face twisted as she choked out a miserable sob as House felt his heart sink into oblivion. "When you were shot, I thought for sure you were going to die for nothing. Then you disappeared and I had no idea if you were dead or alive. This time I was going to have a front row seat. She wanted me to watch you take your last breath. It was her or us. You were right about that. I had no choice."
"What–"
"I wanted to hurt her, Greg. I wanted see her broken and bloody and begging for mercy from us. I wanted that syringe to fall by me, and believe me, I wouldn't have lost any sleep over it. I'm not asking for an apology, either." She finished with a deep breath, sniffling and swiping at her runny nose.
House passed her a box of tissues and waited a few minutes for Cuddy to compose herself.
"You have nothing to feel guilty over, Lisa," House said quietly.
"I'm not asking if I should justify my feelings or not."
"You're asking for something. What is it?"
"You did what you had to do and you saved our lives. I would never make you apologize for that."
"What do you want, Lisa?"
"I just want to know where we're going now."
"I would hope we continue down the path we were taking," House answered with complete sincerity.
"Me too," Cuddy said with a tiny smile. "We're too far down the road to turn back now. We got detoured, now we just need to get back on track But...um, let's not rush head-long into things, okay? We need to take things one step at a time."
"I know," he said, taking her left hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You feeling okay? How's the hand?"
"It feels a little swollen, but it's okay."
"That's good. Just don't get any bones broken in your feet or we'll all be in trouble."
"Uh...okay," Cuddy said with a snort. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do. Am I still moving in, boss?"
"Of course."
"Good. I need to talk to Bobby. He might want to talk to you, too."
"Bobby's here?" She gasped, then looked a little annoyed. "Why didn't you say so? Where is he? Is Alex here?"
"Alex is in New York. Bobby is sitting out in the corridor. You up to talking to him?"
"Yes."
"Okay, I'll get him." House said, but remained in his seat. "You know, there's a piano in one of the classrooms. Call Foreman and Chase and tell them to bring it up here later, after we're done here. They'll listen to you."
