Regrets

I.

Anyone who has, or perhaps has had an enemy at one point in their life knows that it is, in fact, quite possible to hate someone with every fibre of your being. For Gregory House, that concept was very well known, of course, because after all, he was- according to most people- an arrogant, selfish bastard. So, when an interesting (and possibly awkward) moment, (in his opinion) was interrupted by a rat, it should be perfectly understandable that he wanted to, at that time, throttle it.

Simply stated, she had been so close… so close, and yet, at the same time, so far away, or even just out of reach. From his point of view.

And, he mused, he supposed she was… to a certain degree.

House's train of thought, or rather, whatever one would choose to name the many deliberations and reflections of his mind, was cut off by a figure entering his office and slamming the door behind her; then coming to stand in front of his desk and glaring pointedly at him.

"What the hell were you trying to do?" Her voice was quiet, too quiet for his liking, and it made him uneasy. "Were you trying to get me to fall for you again? What?" She stared at him, attempting, for the most part, to decipher what was running through his head right then. He stood up and hobbled around the desk to stand beside her, or he was, until she turned, and then she was in front of him again.

It was meant to be a demand, he was sure, but to his trained ears it sure as hell didn't sound like one. It probably wouldn't have even resembled one even if she was talking to Foreman, for the simple reason that she never got mad at him, and that he knew now she had some semblance of feelings left for him. He just had to get her to admit it, although it was fairly obvious when they were in her attic, waiting so patiently for her sick pet rat to appear so they could capture it.

God, he hated that rat. The damn rat.

His expression automatically molded into a frown, causing Stacy's to change as well. "What?"

It would have been the easiest thing in the world, really. Lean forward two inches, kiss her, catch the damn rat, and leave. She could deal with Mark after he left, and maybe deal with her own thoughts in the process. But, you know he wasn't going to push it.

"Greg."

He pulled himself from his thoughts once more, looking at her… looking back at him.

For seventeen agonizing seconds they had been frozen in time. For seventeen agonizing seconds he had let himself get lost in her eyes like he used to, and for seventeen agonizing seconds, he wrestled with the idea that he was still in love with her.

He realized it on the eighteenth second.

A/N: The whole story is done. If you want it... you know what to do. There's very little HS stuff out there. And the chapters are all short, I know it's annoying, but sometimes I write that way. Sorry.