Hi,hi. Sorry for the long wait. This is the second piece, and maybe the last one. I find it a little bit of OOC, but I'll leave that for you to judge. Please, any review is welcome!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer

I do not own any of the characters in this story.

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Chapter 2

He didn't remember when things started to change….well, yeah, he did. Most of it. The better parts, he would say…like the one, she….eh…oh yes….and the other one that she…..oh! And that one! How could he ever forget that one!

Well, as he was reluctantly admitting, he did indeed quite remember the night things started to change. And the day that leaded to the night.

So, let's start from the beginning. It had been one of those days….one of 'those' days when his leg hurt like hell, and his head hurt like hell, and his heart hurt like hell. But, of course, being House he would have never admitted it. So, he went to work as any other day of his life, being a pain in the ass to anyone.

He had hoped there would have been a new interesting case for him to solve, and distract his mind from the pain, but luck had not been with him that day. Moreover, he had clinic hours!

'This is like hell.' He had thought while swallowing three of his vicodin pills, willing they could anytime soon stop the headache and his leg's pain. For his heart's one, he knew better than to even wish. He had always wondered if there was any analyzable rhythm to his hell-like days appearances, but that was pathetic, even for him. So, he just hoped first thing in the morning, every morning, for it to be a 'normal day'. And sometimes he was granted his wish and sometimes, like that day, he wasn't.

So, returning to the train of events, he had clinic hours, but luckily, Forman and Chase had enough self-preservation instinct to volunteer to help him out with them. Even Cameron had kept herself oddly quite all day. Not that he didn't feel grateful about it, but then, he had to admit this was one of 'those days' and that he had been terribly stupid to pretend it was not. He hated when people could read him through, another reason to add to the list of 'reasons I hate those days', as if he hadn't had enough. He was left alone for all day.

Despite the wish to leave the hospital early, he left at seven under the watchful eyes of Cuddy. Oddly enough she hadn't come to his office to yell at him in all day, and that was something to think about, maybe he should thank the boys for a great and efficient job at clinics. No, the hell he would thank them. Or perhaps the ever present Wilson had told her something and she had stayed away for everybody's sake. Or maybe she had been very but very busy….Never mind.

He walked to his bike and started it thinking of his home, but, more precisely, of the old scotch he had in the cupboard at home. Yeah, he could already taste the strong and heavy alcohol in his mouth, the smell of it, the burning sensation of it sliding down his throat and when it reached his empty stomach, the hotness and numbness. And if he tried hard enough, maybe this numb sensation would also reach other certain parts of his body. If he really tried hard.

Unluckily, he hadn't been able to make it home. The need had been too strong that he had to stop at the first bar he saw. And when he reached out to grab the glass of golden liquid he had ordered, he realized his hands were trembling. He swallowed it rapidly and it had an instant effect on him, his hands steadying. But, it was not enough, so he asked for another, and another, and another…..He willed it to ease his pain and it worked, at least on his headache. It was one pain less after all. And the numb sensation he was praying for was reaching his consciousness, he was glad of it. He closed his eyes and urged the sensation to go to the most important parts, knowing it would fail non-the less, but he had to try. He had to. He could bear it no more.

'House' He heard, but didn't pay it attention. It must have been his imagination. Too much drink. That was good.

Then someone poked him repeating his name. Stop! This was not a good delusion.

He opened his eyes and grunted for being bothered. Someone was standing at his table, he tried to focus but it was too much a work, he needed another drink. He turned his sight to the glass.

'It's empty.' He stated, and was about to raise his arm to order another one when someone stopped him. He stared at the hand on his wrist.

'House.' He heard again and this time the voice sounded familiar. It was a female voice.

He looked at the person who took a seat in front of him and tried to recognize her. He started from the hair. It was dark and curly, then her eyes, of an intense blue with concern, then her lips…..her lips seemed soft, soft and tempting. It was a face of an attractive woman. An attractive and concerned woman named Lisa Cuddy.

'Cuddy.' He drawled out her name in a low whisper.

What was she doing here? Maybe it was his mind playing him a trick, a big and strange one, he would have admitted. Yeah, that must be it. This stuff was good, he would have to ask where they bought it. He 'd like another one, then maybe he could have Carmen Elektra seating in front of him. That would be nicer. Not that Cuddy was not hot, but it would be quite inappropriate to have his fantasies with her.

He raised his hand again to order another round only to be stopped again. Ok, that felt too much real. He glared at her, so it was not his imagination, she was really here.

'How many have you had?' She asked concern in her eyes.

'Why mom?' He retorted moodily.

'C'mon, I'll take you home.' He heard her said while standing up.

He glared at her again, but she just looked back with a neutral expression. He didn't move though.

'House.' Though her face was still inexpressive, her voice was not.

He looked at her. This was non-of her business, nobody could tell him what to do, at least not in his personal life. And this definitely was personal. And if some ever did it, he would make sure to let that someone know who he or she was messing with. So he just stared at Cuddy, and didn't even move a finger.

She stared back and at some point he thought she was about to give up and let him be, but he was proved wrong when she spoke again.

'Get up House.' Her tone changed. 'Get up.' It was her bossy tone, he could recognized it anywhere.

It was strange. Some other night it might have never worked, but that night his body oddly disobeyed his dizzy mind and did stand up.

It hadn't been a good choice because his knees buckled and he would have fall head straight to the floor if she hadn't been on time to catch him. He didn't like the sensation of being helped. He needed no help. So he tried to loosen himself from her grip but she didn't let him, instead she grabbed his cane and gave it to him.

'Now move.' She half escorted half helped him to the door and into her car after she paid the bill. He struggled to free himself at first but her grasp was too strong and weirdly soothing, her presence was soothing and the pain eased. He had to lean on her, not because he couldn't walk on his own, but because he couldn't bear walking on his own. Not that night.

They got into her car and he rested his head against the seat. He didn't want to let go of her but he would have never shown such a weakness so he kept quiet in his seat, while the pain regained its territory. And with the pain, old memories that he had been trying to suppress all day. His head got cleared.

He didn't even realized that they were at his door and was startled when her hand reached his shoulder. And in the briefly second their eyes locked he saw it. Concern… and something more. He adverted his eyes rapidly, knowing what she had seen in his, and masked them as he always had done. However, he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here, why she was doing this, putting up with a "seemingly" drunk him, why she was fighting so hardly to keep him at the hospital or just why she was so concerned about him? Was it because he was extremely brilliant? Or maybe it was the guilt of what she had done to his leg? Or maybe….maybe there was some other thing she would not tell him?

He let her helped him out of the car after he failed several times doing so and then into the house. He let go of her, not really wanting it, but deciding it was the best thing for him to do so. The touch of her hands, the caress of her hair when brushed accidentally against his face, the aroma of her perfume, and her presence…all that was too comforting, too strange that it was her, Lisa Cuddy. It was confusing. He didn't like to be confused. Stop! He yelled to his mind, to his body, to his need….but they would not stop.

He stretched himself on his cough, willing she would leave. After all, she had accomplished her mission. The little bit of his conscious mind needed her to be far away from him, knowing that it was not a good idea to have her here, not now. But the rest of him ached for her. And this ache was so different from his old pain, so natural for a man to feel it towards a woman, so strong, so soothing and so welcomed….

Oh, God! This was not right! Nor it was fair to her. He wished for her to go, but, then he didn't.

'C'mon, let's get you in bed.' He trembled when she said those words, and wanted to withdraw his arm when she reached him, but he just couldn't. 'Which one?' He let her picked him up and helped him into the bedroom he had pointed with his cane.

And this was the beginning of the turning point of the whole story or perhaps it was not, if he had chosen differently. But he hadn't. He hadn't been able to.

He didn't immediately let her go after they fall together in his bed when helping him in, she landing on top of him and their lips touching briefly. She threw apart startled but didn't break their eye contact. He looked at her in the eyes, his pain gone, his ghosts gone, the other woman gone, she brought the real Gregory House back, even if it was for just one night. He was surprised by her doing. Nobody had been able to do this, not even himself. So when she kissed him, he had to respond, he wanted to.

The rest was history. Clothes off…entwined limbs….and pleasure.

Yes. It had been like….WOW.

He woke up the next day to find her gone. He was not surprised, just confused about why all this had happened. He stopped analyzing it after a minute of trying. It was too complicated. And he was broken, and too vulnerable, and not brave enough. He was Ok with all that. And she might hurt him, not because she wanted to but because in any relationship someone hurt someone.

So he went for the easy way. He pretended. After all, he was drunk, wasn't he? And she was smart enough to pretend too. So, he kept on pretending.

Though things changed after that night. They changed.