House had skipped out on clinic duty. He had signed himself out of the hospital and left his team to figure out a diagnosis for their patient. This behaviour was not new but the dark look on House's face as he limped out of the hospital, was what worried Cuddy. Wilson had voiced his concern and Cuddy told him that House would be fine. It was an innocent white lie but her worry for House was increasing ten-fold. Her afternoon schedule was pretty clear and she could escape the hospital. Cuddy told her assistant that she was stepping out for lunch and that she should be contacted if it was an emergency.
Cuddy climbed into her car and started her journey to House's apartment. The roads were a little icy as the majority of the snow had melted but it was still dangerous. She wondered how House got to and from work without the bike. She wasn't sure if he still had a car. Cuddy parked just across the street from House's building. She double-checked her car was locked before crossing the street gingerly and heading into House's building. As she approached House's apartment door, she could the piano. It was a piece that she was unfamiliar with but it was beautiful. Cuddy raised her fist to knock but she noticed that the door was open slightly, almost like House had expected her to visit. The apartment was dark apart from the dim glow weakly radiating from a lamp in the corner. The curtains were pulled in every room and the apartment was cold. Cuddy's skin broke out into goosebumps even with her thick coat on. The coldness was penetrating every fibre of their bodies and House didn't seem bothered.
The door closed behind Cuddy and House felt her presence looming. He stopped playing but didn't turn to face his visitor. He knew why she was here and decided to let her speak her mind before saying something cruel and spiteful.
"You're worried about me." His deep voice cutting the silence in half.
"Not a day goes by where I don't worry about you," Cuddy answered honestly, making her way over to the piano stool where House was perched. His fingers hovering above the ivory keys. There was just enough room for her to squeeze onto the stool. Her thigh pressed into House's and that small touch made Cuddy question why she came here. House wasn't high and he didn't seem suicidal so why was he so down?
"I can hear you thinking," House stated before he started playing a Sonata by Mozart. Cuddy's knowledge of Mozart was limited but she would recognise Sonata No.16 from anywhere. It was the first piece that Cuddy had ever heard House play all those years ago. It brought back memories that Cuddy had pushed to the back of her mind. Memories about her younger self and the fleeting friendship she had with House during Med School.
"What am I thinking about?" Cuddy asked, deciding to play along with House's game just to get an answer out of him.
"You're concerned that I'm planning on doing something like taking one too many Vicodin or something worse. You want to tell me how you feel about me and how you care but you don't want me to shut you out. You're afraid of losing me which I can assure you, is the wrong assumption. That's naïve, even for you Cuddy."
The thing that scared Cuddy wasn't how accurate House's reflection of her thoughts. Oh no, it was how he could see right through her and be gentle about it. If this conversation had happened on another day, Cuddy would be frustrated with herself for being so open and House would gloat to Wilson about Cuddy finally letting her guard down after all these years of sparring and the inevitable denial of love.
"From the silence, I'm going to assume that I was correct." House stopped playing the Sonata and waited for some sign of recognition from Cuddy. The tension in the room was increasing as Cuddy spoke, "I came here to talk about you, not me."
"Fine. I'm depressed… You remember the Cassidy case?" House asked, his gaze quickly meeting Cuddy's before he turned his head back to the piano. Cuddy hummed in agreement and moved her hand to rest over House's which were resting on his thighs. He didn't flinch or pull away; he welcomed the touch.
"She died on her eighteenth birthday. I told her she had three years to live not five months." House said quietly and the world stopped spinning. House was blaming himself for the death of this young girl when it was out of his control. This was a side of House that she hadn't seen in years and it unsettled her. He never took these cases personally. It was his way of staying object and focused. This case had been different. House had bonded with the girl which came as a huge surprise to Wilson, Cuddy and the team. He was extremely hands-on and he spent time with the patient. Cuddy never knew that they had kept in touch. It is frowned upon but not prohibited.
"Oh House, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. You did everything you could." Cuddy whispered, resting her head on his shoulder and gently caressing his rough hand with her smooth thumb. Cuddy could feel the tension slowly drain from his body as she continued her soothing touch. The silence in the apartment was welcomed as it gave them both time to think and process this emotional conversation. Cuddy's phone rang in her coat pocket and she ignored it. House had broken the contact and was pressing down on random keys on the piano, his foot tapped the pedals on occasion.
"Greg…" Cuddy whispered, rising from the stool and crossing the room, stopping at the door to take one last look at House.
"I know." Hearing Cuddy call him by his first name felt foreign. It transported him back to a time that he desperately wishes he could relive. A time where he was happy, carefree and pain-free.
So many feelings left unexpressed. Some things were better left unsaid. There were some things that Lisa Cuddy wanted so desperately to tell Greg House but today was not that day. Maybe one day, they could speak like two rational people who are in love and want to be happy. The front door closed and Gregory House was alone, once again.