A/N- I promise. I really am going to get back on a more regular update schedule soon! The holidays and beginning of the year predictably set me back, but an awful kidney infection really delayed me. However, I'm finally feeling well again and am back to continue this reunion story. Thankfully, I think I have a bit more plotted out and some research done that I needed to as we move forward in this story so that should help going forward. I'll be surprised if this story ends up less than 100 chapters tbh, and it could be much more than that even. So yeah, still a long way to go, but I'm excited for it.

Some of you may have seen a new story pop up from me, Denial is Half the Battle. Others found their way here from that story… so thanks for reading this too! Like I've said it earlier chapters, please don't take its appearance as an indication that I'm abandoning this story. They're completely different in nature, and I'm really excited for both.

Thanks again to everyone who continues to read and review. Your support is such an inspiration to keep going!

Disclaimer- I have not acquired the rights to House or any of the characters since my last update, and I don't anticipate that happening any time soon.

True friends will always
push you towards
the great possibilities of
your future.

-Seth Brown

Cuddy slid her hands from his neck and down his arms, grasping House's hand and giving a squeeze as she walked him to her master bathroom.

If he believed in Heaven, House would have said that Cuddy's bathroom would have to be there. The large soaking tub looked deep enough for him to fully submerge and long enough for him to stretch out. The spacious walk in shower offered a wide bench. The ceramic tiles actually felt warm under his feet—from the dial on the wall, he deduced they were heated. He limped to the tub and closed his eyes in relieved anticipation when he saw the jets that lined it.

Tracing her fingers slowly on his back, Cuddy smiled as she saw his shoulders relax. "Go on. Get in. I'll get you a towel."

House felt her slide beside him and watched as she flipped a switch on the towel rack that hung on the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he turned his head toward her. "Heated?"

She chuckled and nodded before she slipped out of the bathroom. When she returned, towel in hand, House was reclined in the tub, head resting on a small bath pillow and eyes closed. The low hum of the jets masked the sound of her footsteps as she approached, gently hanging the towel on the rack. She stood and watched him for a moment. His right knee was bent, fingertips digging into the deep scar on his thigh. His brows were furrowed in pain, drawing a frown from her.

His pain seemed worse than she remembered it being. It was his constant companion, but she hadn't seen him as effected by it since… well, since those horrible months after his infarction. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the tub and ran her fingers through his hair.

"You just going to sit there and stare at me or are you going to join me?"

Pulled from her worried thoughts, she gave him a small smile. "No Casanova, I've still got calls to make, remember?"

Her eyes trailed down to his scar. The skin around it was swollen and reddened. It had changed since the last time she saw it—puckered in more places. New lines ran across the area. She shuddered seeing it, reminded of the night she found him covered in blood in his bathtub. The tumors and surgeries (both his self-surgery and the emergency surgery at the hospital) had changed the canvas of his thigh. Cuddy shook her head to clear the thoughts. She couldn't go there. Not right now. Thinking of that night would lead her to thinking about the long days after—the days she tried to reconnect with him, their argument in the hall, and then… the crash. That was the past. She wanted to leave it there. She was happier with him here than she had been in years. They'd already talked about that horrible day. She couldn't—didn't want to—let the hurt and anger and bitterness creep back in. She was ready to move on, but just the sight of the scar was dragging her right back to those days.

Sensing her tension, House cracked an eye open. "You okay?"

She wasn't. She was lost in her thoughts—doubts and fears and old hurts still weighing on her heavily as she tried to fight them back. She couldn't tell him that though. She'd already spent so much time reassuring him that they would be okay. That this could work. If she told him that she was still wrestling with the past herself, she was sure he would run. They would lose this chance.

"I'm good. We're good. I'm just trying to prepare for these calls. I need more coffee first though. Want me to bring you a cup?"

A delighted moan answered her. "A jetted tub and coffee delivery? I take back all those times I called you She-Devil." Through the slit of his eye, House gazed down at her robe. "And you're still naked under that robe… woman, you are perfect."

She rose with a laugh and pressed a light kiss to his forehead before turning toward the door.

"Hey Cuddy…"

When she looked back over his shoulder, he was resting his head on the pillow with his eyes closed again. He didn't make eye contact as his voice dopped when he asked, "Could you bring Wilson's letter with the coffee? It's on the kitchen counter."

She lowered her head and nodded, hoping he would understand her response even if he couldn't see her. The grief knotted in her throat, making it impossible to reply as she slipped out of the bathroom.

The bathwater was tepid by the time House opened his eyes again. Cuddy's conversation with Julia weighed heavily on his mind. The Cuddy sisters had never been particularly close, but it seemed like they were slowly bridging the gap between them before Cuddy left Princeton. Julia and her family had moved closer and they were spending time together. Shopping trips, lunches, and… ill-fated dinner parties. It seemed that tenuous bond had crashed down along with the dining room wall.

He'd been soaking a while, his hands and feet pruned, but he still needed time to think this through. On the night she broke up with him, Cuddy said he would always choose himself. He couldn't this time. He had to choose her, what was best for her. Unfortunately, choosing her might mean choosing to walk away. He'd created this mess for himself, and he couldn't drag her into it with him. He'd already cost her too much, and he could only imagine how much more she stood to lose if he stuck around. Her family would never support it. He couldn't imagine what her friends would think when they learned who he was and what he'd done. She'd built a nice life for herself, and he could only add misery to it.

People who get close to you get hurt. That's a fact.

His memory taunted him with her words. He gripped his thigh as the tension rolled through him at the thought. She wasn't wrong. She'd been hurt… unimaginably. By him. And he could only see more hurt coming for her if he stayed.

Damn you, Wilson. You should have kept her out of this.

Wilson. House wished he was here to talk this through. As annoying as the moralizing and meddling and lectures had been through the years, he wished he could have that now. Wilson would have been able to help him sort through this mess.

The envelope sat beside the now-cold coffee on the edge of the bathtub. Draining some of the chilling water and refilling the tub with hot water, he laid his head back and took a couple deep breaths before pulling the letter from the envelope.

House-

Get it out of your system now. Call me a manipulative bitch, yenta, meddler. I hope that you're still with Cuddy when you read this and they all apply. Consider this my last and greatest meddle.

You need her, House.

I watched you two circle each other for years. I watched you both give some guarded, half-hearted, lame attempt at a relationship. I watched it all blow up. But one thing never changed. You need her. And she needs you just as much as you need her.

You weren't the same when you came back from prison. Maybe on the surface you were, but not really. Of course you were still reckless and snarky and willing to mess with me and your team, but something had changed. I'm sure you're brushing it off now, saying prison changes people, but that wasn't it. You're not the same without her.

She's not the same without you either.

I know we never talked about it, but you need to know what it was like after that night. She was a mess that night and in shock. The next day though, she was… Cuddy. She was determined and focused and refused to let anyone see her sweat. But that sparkle in her eye was gone. It was like auto-pilot Cuddy, going through the motions. She said she needed to get away, away from the place so heavily marked by your presence.

Funny she ended up in the city where you went to undergrad and started med school, isn't it?

She's rebuilt herself, but she's never got that fire and spark back. Then she walked into our room last night and saw you, and I saw it again. I watched her come alive during the poker game. I watched you, a "dead man" come alive again. I want that for the both of you.

I know what you're planning, House. Don't do it. Be the man who comes back from the dead. If anything, it will screw with people more than if you were found dead beside me in a hotel room. Plus, we gave those gay rumors enough evidence (my proposal). Don't make that our legacy.

I was wrong when I told you that you can't come back from this. You can, but you'll need her to do it. If anyone can figure out how to get you out of this, she can. And she will. Take it as the biggest bet we'll ever make that I say she will.

Thank you for these last months. For being there. It was the greatest adventure I could have asked for. Now go start a new great adventure with Cuddy and be… not miserable. Maybe even try for happy.

You need her. She needs you. She forgives you. Forgive yourself so you can move on.

I'd say I'll see you on the other side, but you'd roll your eyes and tell me there is no other side. So just take this opportunity to make the most of what you have here. I know you'll both be okay if you're together through this.

I love you.

Wilson

A tear rolled down his cheek as he folded the letter and set it aside.