Cuddy was smiling as she walked through House's apartment; it was time to implement phase two of her plan, and congratulate House for solving the fake case. But, upon reaching the partially open door of his bedroom, the smile vanished instantly. She hovered, watching him. He was shirtless. The bedroom was dimly lit, but there was no way to overlook the coin-sized scars spread across his back. He was in the process of getting dressed, and his fingers were slow and clumsy, and he dropped the shirt. Huffing in annoyance, he turned around; revealing the same scars on his stomach.
Their eyes locked. He self-consciously crossed his arms, hiding his injuries. "What?"
Cuddy shook her head, trying to find her voice. "If...it hurts to bend over, I can get it."
"It always hurts. Why do you think I was up there?"
She opened the door and walked inside. "I'm sorry," she said, and knelt to retrieve the shirt. As she did, her eyes went to his right leg, where she could still clearly visualize the missing muscle. Her eyes shot up to his and he quickly looked away. She surged to her feet.
"Thanks. Your good deed is done, you can leave."
Cuddy stepped closer, putting a hand on his crossed arms. "House," she said softly. "You know if I hadn't been there, Taub would've lost his patient."
House took the shirt from her and turned to discard it on the bed. "Everybody dies," he growled. "Things may look promising for Hoffman now, but he could still go tomorrow. I'm done with that case."
"Why?"
"Because I don't care." He grabbed his cane and limped to the dresser, placing his cane on its surface. "Your good deed is done, you can leave now," he repeated, bitterly.
"You've always said you don't care. And you continued to prove otherwise."
"Yeah, you already called me a hypocrite earlier. No need to rub it in." He opened a drawer and grumbled, "I'm pretty sure there are funner things to have rubbed."
He turned at her soft chuckle. "Why are you still here?"
She sobered at the way he was looking at her. She followed him to the dresser. "Do you think you'll ever forgive me for getting you off that roof?"
"No."
She smiled, but her eyes were still concerned. "Do I need to handcuff you to the bed?"
He looked down and fumbled for a fresh shirt, finally slamming the drawer shut with a trembling hand. "Why do you want me to suffer?"
"I don't. But everybody suffers."
"Good!" The volume of his proclamation made her jump, and she frowned at him. He grabbed his cane and limped back to the bed.
"Good?" she finally repeated. "Do you want me to suffer?"
The shake of his head was barely discernible as he started to pull the shirt on. Raising his hands over his head, he groaned again; and Cuddy quickly pulled it down for him. He dropped his hands with a sigh.
"How did this happen to you?"
His eyes flashed up to hers. "You can leave now."
He watched her walk away, then sat on the bed. As he started lying down, his head snapped to the side when he realized Cuddy was laying there as well.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight."
He looked up at the ceiling, making a face as she scooted close and put an arm around him. "No, don't. Don't. I'm...damaged," he said in disgust.
She looked into his eyes. "You think I'm not?"
"I know you're not."
Cuddy closed her eyes. "Everybody is damaged in their own way. It's life."
"I meant physically. Mentally, I know you're a mess. Why else are you single?"
She moved away from him and sat up on the bed. "Because...I haven't dated anyone since I dated you."
His head swiveled and their eyes locked. "That was twenty-something years ago!"
She nodded, and House struggled to painfully sit up. Finally accomplishing his goal, he stared at her in bewilderment. "Why?" he finally asked.
"Because I knew there never would be anybody else."
House winced in pain as he raised a hand to softly touch her face.