A/N-thank you so much for all of your reviews and to all of those who have favorited or alerted this story. All of the reviewers-lenasti16, KiwiClare, JLCH, Boo's House, RedTulipAna, TheHouseWitch, Cate53, dmarchl, IHeartHouseCuddy, ClareBear14, Josam, Truth, Alex, Abby, housebound, HuddyGirl, Little Greg, Irina, Mon Fogel. Thank you all for your comments and your willingness to see this outcome for them...people should have good things happen once in awhile, right!
As far as what things I'm going to explore from the past...some I just don't know yet, I want to try to make sure the things seem relevant to the story line. I am trying to get all of the big ones.
Disclaimer-I don't own the characters of House, MD
"What's this one from?" she asked, while they lay in bed in the early hours of the morning, poking at an old scar on his ribs. The large windows around the entire building were open. The sheets on the bed and simple curtains that hung down over the windows rippled, as the breeze from outside, with the slightest hint of a morning chill, rushed into the room.
"Umm…" he said, lifting his head from the pillow as he looked down at the spot she was touching, "Vigorous game of cops and robbers, third grade."
"Were you the cop or the robber?" she asked, while she traced the wide scar with her thumb.
"Cop, trying to head off a wily criminal by going over a storage shed instead of around it. Unfortunately, I used a pipe that wasn't really secured to the building."
"Looks like it must have been pretty bad."
"Because I tried to take care of it myself, since I knew my mom wouldn't be pleased if she knew what I was doing, or where I was doing it…and then it got all nasty and infected…and I had to tell her. At which point she was mad at me for being where I was, doing what I was doing, and that I didn't tell her."
Cuddy smiled, closed her eyes, lowered herself back onto the bed and curled against him again silently. "I mentioned the 'm'-word…" he added, after a few moments of silence.
"Is that a forbidden topic?" she asked, as she stretched an arm over him.
"I can feel you tensing, and trying to make it seem like you aren't tensing."
"No, I'm not."
"Are you lying?"
"A little. I'm a little tense, but it isn't a big deal."
"My mother stresses you out too?"
She chuckled, "Everything is fine, stop worrying." After a few moments, she added, "And there it is…now you are tensing."
"You're upset that I didn't tell my mother about us?"
"I shouldn't be."
"You told your mother, so…"
"Technically I can't take credit for telling my mother, since she ambushed us. As much as I'd love to go all sanctimonious on you…I'm not really on the most stable of platforms."
She sat up and looked at him. He was wearing a look of surprise and said, "You could have lied to her when she showed up. I probably would have played the 'well-I-told-my-mom' card if I were you."
"It's OK. I am proving to you that I'm not trying to control you."
"Difficult?"
She crinkled her face, "Once in a while…old habits..."
She dropped her head down, shaking it. "I'll call my mom tonight," he offered, without a hint of resentment.
"No! Don't."
"That's what you want me to do isn't it? I'm being considerate…it's weird I know."
"It isn't that…see, that's exactly why I wasn't telling you how I felt. Sometimes little white lies can be a good thing, I guess. Because if I tell you the truth, then you do something to make me happy, then you resent it… So I'm stuck with either lying to you, or making you feel like you need to change for me."
"Doing things right…it's a big pain in the ass…" he said, emphatically.
"I know! I don't want you to call your mom…I really don't, particularly not while we are here…having fun," Cuddy said, "I don't want to ruin this for us."
"Then…what exactly are you looking for from me?"
"Nothing. I guess…I was just curious. Did she ever…even know about me?"
"Well yea, I always keep her up to date on the women I'm screwing…" he joked and stopped when the expression left her face. "That…was probably NOT the way I was supposed to say that."
Cuddy smirked, trying to cover her sense of hurt. He added, "Oh please! You know I don't think of you that way."
"I know."
"It was just a stupid thing that I would say…and…I actually said it…out loud…to you…"
"That is not that big of a deal…" she said, her fake smile plastered across her face. "What sort of is a big deal…is how you feel about this. Why are you embarrassed about me?"
"I'm not!"
"You've accused me of being embarrassed of you, but, I think maybe it's been the other way all along."
"I…am not embarrassed of you. I just…don't talk to my mom. We aren't the keep in touch type of family. I'm not exactly the devoted son she probably deserves…I'm guessing her earlier dreams for me didn't include drug addiction and a criminal record."
"You are an utterly brilliant diagnostician, who has saved lives that others gave up on. I would assume those things probably surpass her greatest expectations for you."
"Not sure if that makes up for the other things."
"You like extremes...and you suck at mediocrity."
"Thank you?"
She smiled, "I met Celia…the woman at the hospital."
"Oh. Decided to talk to you about us?"
"Yea, when I was coming in to see Kate last week. Celia is another pretty strong House-advocate."
"She is. She really is."
"She said we're going to her place for dinner after we get back from here."
"Did she? If she said it, then it's pretty much a done deal. I don't think many people tell Celia 'no'. Did she lecture you?"
"Yea. A little bit. I mean, she was also very nice…told me that I should know you are too good for me…and that I'm too good for you too."
"That's…definitely her."
"Really strong, independent women seem to like you. My mom, Celia…"
"Bitchy, controlling women love me," he teased. "I collect them."
She smiled and nodded as she went back to tracing the various scars along his body.
Her eyes settled on his leg, on the new marks there, that were added since they had been involved in the past. She ran her finger along one of the newest scars, from his attempt to do surgery on himself. She hated, during those months after their breakup, watching him self-destruct, she did her best avoid noticing anything that was going on, but she did not expect the horror she found in his apartment that night. His eyes clamped shut as he could sense her mind traveling back in time. "Not one of my better moments," he said, stiffly.
"Not mine either."
His eyes popped open and he looked at her, wordlessly, and read the sorrow on her face, the sense of guilt that seemed so far out of place. When everything was spiraling out of control he wanted to see her feeling guilty. So much of him had hoped that she'd feel regret for what she'd done, that she'd realize how much she hurt him. He thought if she knew just how much pain he was in, her cold, hard exterior would crack, and the woman that loved him would emerge to end the insanity of their breakup.
Initially, he hoped, underneath all of the anger, she would find him, pull him into her arms and bring him back to the comfort he'd known for only a few moments. That comfort, his head on her lap, waking next to her, walking into her home unannounced, but actually welcome…felt like the place where he had always belonged.
When it was gone he missed it so much more than the absent chunk of muscle that helped to define him. She finally looked like she felt as guilty as he had once hoped she'd be, but sitting on the bed in Tahiti, he wanted to erase that look, to make her forget the guilt, because the last thing he wanted to do was cause more pain.
She looked him over methodically, and he could see her own harsh criticisms of herself. She ran her fingertips over his skin, catching the dips and imperfections from wounds, the points and ridges of bones, the dints and curves of muscle. Normally he would have hated having someone scrutinizing him like that, but the look in her eyes, the combination of guilt, love and empathy, felt different than anything else. She took her time, as if she could heal each wound or ache permanently with the touch of a finger, brush of a thumb, or the deep press of her palm over the area.
After she was finished, her fingers came to rest on his chest and she looked at him sweetly. Dressed in a white lab coat, sitting in the clinic, she never looked so capable of healing wounds as she did sitting next to him on their bed. She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before backing away, "No more pain," she said softly. "At least when we can avoid it. Please don't hurt yourself anymore."
He nodded. "No more guilt. You shouldn't do that to yourself either."
They took a tour of the islands on a speedboat, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of a different place. Cuddy was leaning against him, happily lost in the moment, when she noticed he was distracted by a conversation behind him. A snide teenager was loudly arguing his mother.
"I have a damn sinus infection, I already told you!" the teen griped. "Just get me the antibiotics."
"You didn't have a cold. I don't think you have a sinus infection. Just wait until we go home tomorrow and we'll talk to your regular doctor," she reassured him.
The conversation had gone on between the two of them for nearly fifteen minutes and House finally had enough of them disrupting his peace. "Yes, your mother is a huge idiot," he said, as he turned around and stunned the woman and her son. "As a medical professional, I've been trained to detect drug seeking behaviors, particularly in teens. As a drug addict, I've actually developed entirely new forms of drug seeking behavior. Allow me to tell you, the best way to seek and obtain drugs of all sorts, is to have a friend who's actually a doctor with a prescription pad, and learn to forge his signature. I know that prescription drugs are really all the rage, and I'm sure you'd love to be a hit at all of the parties…"
"Mind your own business," the teen griped.
"See…the problem is…antibiotics are horrible party drugs. There's no high…and I've found that urinary tract infections among the repeat partiers make the ladies less receptive to lovin'."
"It's not for a party, whack job, I have a sinus infection."
"No, you really don't," he said, before turning to the mother, "I'm guessing your son has a lot of unsupervised time lately. Maybe you're working a new job and he's home alone, or he has a new girlfriend."
"Both…why?" the woman asked. "How did you know that?"
"Your son probably has some sort of oozing or some pustules appearing down south. He wants the antibiotics for whatever STD he picked up from his extracurriculars."
The teen's eyes were bulging as he searched for words. "Problem is," House continued, "Not all STD's are bacterial. If you have a virus, the antibiotics won't do you any good. Probably best to swallow your shame and go let someone check that out to see what it is. Those things can have some pretty horrible side effects if untreated."
"My son does not have a…" the woman stopped as she saw the look on her son's face. "You don't have a…"
The boy's sneer had evaporated and it was clear that he wished there was some place, any place, to hide on that speedboat.
"Are you serious?" the mother yelled at her son.
"Look, I'm more than happy to help, I'm with the luxury resort division of 'Doctors Without Borders'…lesser known but equally important. Now, if you and your son could be completely silent for the rest of the trip, as a way to repay me for my valuable advice, I'd really appreciate it. I'd like to have a nice boat ride without thinking of your son's disease ridden schlong."
He turned back to Cuddy, "Guess I should have scheduled a private tour."
When they returned, later that night, to their bungalow, the moon bright in the sky, they chatted quietly on the porch, his arm wrapped around her while she ran her hand across his stomach. They were more physically affectionate than they'd been in the past, at least when alone, in ways that were not always sexual. Neither was quick to admit how thoroughly they enjoyed the attention. "Are you trying to seduce me…again?" he asked, with manufactured horror.
"Always," she answered, rolling her eyes and smirking.
"It was the doctoring wasn't it? The doctoring and my amazing skills of deduction always made you hot."
"I can't resist you when you say things like 'disease-ridden schlong.' Complete turn-on."
He chuckled softly, "I'll have to remember to whisper that one in your ear."
"Ohhh…yes…wouldn't that be so wonderful," she laughed.
She followed him into the room, watching him as he poured drinks. "What are you going to do with your medical license?"
"Use it to garner sexual favors from you, what else would I do with it?"
"I…know we were going to discuss this when we got back but, I think I am going to move closer to you."
"I don't think that's a great idea."
"OK," she said, forcing a smile and looking through the cabinets.
"Come here," he said, with a quick chuckle, as he watched her, secretly somewhat happy to see the disappointment on her face.
"Later. I'm hungry, gonna get something to eat."
"You aren't hungry!"
"I am!"
"Come here," he insisted.
When she refused again, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "You just love making the cripple chase you around. I want you to move in with me. When you are ready, you can get rid of your place, use the money to attend stripper school…"
"You should probably talk to Kate about that first," she said.
"I run all of the important stuff past her first. She also thinks you should be a stripper."
Cuddy looked at him unamused.
He continued, "I talked to her about you moving in before we left."
"You did?"
"Yup. I was thinking we could live at Kate's for a bit, help her get on her feet, since it will probably be a while before she's fully functional. And take that time to figure out where we want to live and work. We could go…anywhere."
"We didn't get to this point last time after almost a year, are you sure you're ready this time…so quickly?" she asked.
"Yea, I'm sure…as long as you are sure that you don't mind crashing at my place with me and my buddy…I understand that at this point in your life, it may not be your dream to live in a glorified frat house with some roomies."
She giggled, "I think I can handle it."
