Hello! I have a new drabble for you...

This one is pretty old, I realised as I (re-re-re-re-...)-re-read it before posting it. It's been a couple months? If I remember correctly, I got the idea from a conversation I had with IndyStarkJr and House-less.

It's a, you guessed it, secret relationship AU (I should just rename the damn thing '100 ways to SECRETELY say I love you' at this point!), set in season three, at the end of 3.05 "Fools for love". You'll find that it's not the happiest drabble that I've ever written, but I hope you will like it anyway.

Thank you for your feedback! See you guys soon

62. I believe in you.

"Can you come over?"

Her phone call haunted him as he sped through the streets of Princeton.

They didn't see each other every night – they both needed their space. They'd been single for so long after all, that some habits were hard to shake off. Besides, she was more tired because of the IVF and the hormone injections, and the strain of keeping it a secret from everyone but him, which was why he was more patient, more understanding, when she wanted to be left alone.

Sometimes however, she would call him after a few hours. She was lonely, she'd changed her mind. She would ask him with a flirty tone if he wanted to come over – which, of course, he always did. And then he would make a point to drive leisurely to her place, as though he weren't dying of thirst at the sole thought of seeing her. It drove them both nuts and made their reunion sweeter.

Tonight, however, there was no flirty tone, no confidence that he would accept. She'd asked, like she didn't want to bother him, like maybe he had something better to do.

"Be there in five," he'd answered, grabbing his jacket and his keys before he'd even hung up.

It had made him antsy – and that annoying bully of a cop from earlier that day stopping him halfway did nothing to help it. Fortunately for him, he'd left his driving license in his pocket and forgotten his Vicodin in his apartment, much to Tritter's disappointment. Unable to prove House was driving under the influence, he let him go with a speeding ticket.

When Cuddy answered the door, she was still in her work clothes from earlier – a dark top and a grey pencil skirt. Her face was still made up and her curls still tied in the back of her neck. The only thing missing was her confident posture and the determined look on her face.

She didn't say a word and quickly let him in.

"What happened?" he asked as she shut the door and leaned her back against it.

He sounded worried, and it shook her to the core.

She let out a pained sigh, and it shook him to the core.

"I'm not pregnant," she replied in a blank tone.

Acknowledging it aloud made it all the more real. Telling someone else made it all the more real.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop her tears, but to no avail.

He couldn't understand her pain, but he knew that, for her, it meant another month gone to waste (and she wasn't getting any younger), another round of injections, of doctor's appointments, of hope (she could never help getting her hopes up – the stakes were so high after all), of disappointment, of a night spent mourning someone who'd never existed. Till she wouldn't be able to take it anymore, and she'd quit without having gained anything in return.

Today was the first time that the disappointment had turned to pain.

For how much longer would she be able to take it?

He took a step towards her and cupped her face, encouraging her to step away from the door and fold herself into his arms.

"Better luck next time," he tried, sounding pathetic to his own ears. Boy, was he not good at this.

She must have thought the same thing, because she didn't reply and tightened her embrace instead, indicating that it wasn't words that she was after.

They stayed like this until his leg dictated that they moved. They ate some leftovers in silence, and he told her to go to bed while he washed the dishes.

When he joined her, she was lying on her flank, facing his side of the bed with a blank stare. He lay on his flank as well, and gently caressed her hair. After a few seconds, she cuddled up against his chest and let him wrap his arms around her.

"I can't do this anymore," she sighed eventually.

"Yeah, you can."

She shook her head, rubbing her face against his tee-shirt. "It's too hard."

"I believe in you, Cuddy. I always will."

She exhaled.

"You're so strong, you don't even know," he continued, words flowing freely in the dark. "If anyone can do this, it's you."

She didn't acknowledge his words, but she stopped arguing, and allowed herself to close her eyes. And to him, it was more than enough.

So obviously I'm not an expert on New Jersey law... Tritter letting House go with a speeding ticket? Eh. Probs not.