A/N: Yay, I just love these endings! LOL! They keep me suspended on thin air too and all I can think about is how to go on with it. Seeing how this got me sucked in, you won't have to wait long for the sequel heh. Please review so that I know if there is anything I should change. (Not sure I would, though LOL.) Anyway, there ya go. Enjoy the angst!

CHAPTER 10

He can hardly concentrate on his work. She has been so distant ever since that morning that he hardly ever meets her outside the conference room, and there she restricts herself to medical remarks. The others have noticed how strange she is, but she keeps sweeping off their anxious looks and remarks with simple I'm okay, Just a bad day, Haven't slept too well things. House, on the other hand, doesn't ask her anything. He watches her closely, like a hawk, and feels his impatience rise in him. He is not only curious, but also worried. She felt so soft in his arms, her head limp against his chest, so fragile. He can't help himself, he is falling for her delicacy, her sadness, her aloofness. He wants to be part of her life.

But she has not even looked at him for almost a week now. And she has taken three days off yesterday. He wonders if he should ask Wilson or Cuddy to help him. Maybe they could talk to her. Not even his favourite soap characters can cheer him up; suddenly they all look so corny and stupid. Soap has been his oasis of calmness for so long now, in the midst of which his thoughts could soar high, and he kept telling himself it was just an addictive recreational time he needed to operate more efficiently. What is slowly dawning on him now is that he loves those people dearly, he needs to see they are alright, he has to witness their flawless happy moments, because he will never have anything remotely as happy to show for.

As he turns off the TV set, he notices how time has flied. Half past four. Of course, it was a rerun. He rubs his eyes and gets off his chair. He has nothing particular to do, no case unsolved, no patients swiveling around, no mad Cuddy to yell in his face. He is bored, and misses her from his office, from her desk, from next to the coffee machine. He could call her and ask her what she is doing. If she is alright. Would that be too telling? Well, she works for him. He has to know if he can count on her the day after tomorrow.

……………………………..

-Cameron? What's up?

She holds the receiver but she wonders why she answered the phone. She doesn't want to speak to anyone. Not even him.

-Nothing.

He scratches his beard and squints into the lazy, sunny afternoon.

-Will you be coming to work on Thursday?

That's all he cares about, she thinks bitterly.

-Yes. Bye.

He stares at the receiver, which he then slowly puts down. Something is wrong.

Yeah, something is. Duh, you asshole. You raped her, you bastard, obviously she isn't having the time of her life. As an uncontrollable wave of guilt passes over him, he limps to his jacket and then leaves his office.

-No time for stupid patients now. I'm going to see Cameron. She sounded unhappy on the phone.

-Oh really? Your deductive skills are still the best in the country –Cuddy frowns, walking briskly next to him. –Since when do you care so much for your colleagues?

-They are happy, work is good. They are miserable, work sucks. It's in my interest.

-I'm just not sure you're the best person to go see her right now.

-Do you know anything? –he asks, trying to make it sound matter of factly, and failing.

-No. But if she took three days off there must be something she has to set straight. She needs time. Leave her alone- Cuddy says with another frown, then shakes her head and walks away.

……………………………….

As he puts his helmet on, rain starts coming down. He takes the helmet off and turns his face towards the sky, allowing the cool drops to hit his skin and pour down gently. Opening his mouth he feels rain entering it, and he slowly swallows the sweetness gathering on his tongue. He wants to sit there forever and enjoy the feeling, no rush, no fear. Of course, perfection has to end, like everything, so when the quick shower stops he opens his eyes and wipes his face with his hand, then starts the engine and roars off.

……………………………….

She sits in her magically shrunk living-room, almost sensing the walls gradually closing in on her, as air gets scarce and she finds it more and more difficult to breathe. Too much, too much is happening, and her mind is begging for time out. She sits in her armchair, rocking to and back, something she has been doing since he called her up. To find out if she was ready to work again. She feels so miserable it doesn't even cross her mind that it could be the only way he could have showed he cares. But pondering about House's actions is the last thing she is ready to do just now.

At the knock on her door she jumps, like awoken from deep sleep. Gazing at her clock she sees it is past six. She gets up and drags herself to the door, not bothering to look into the peephole.

Just a tiny tremor in her body when she sees his face. She says nothing, her mouth turning downwards, and he knows she is in distress. Good lord help me, he murmurs to himself, when she slowly goes back in and he follows her.

She sits down and stares ahead, clutching her knees and gently rocking her body. Seeing her like this almost makes him step out of character and kneel down, gather her in his arms, cradle her. Instead, good old House sits down facing her, and soundlessly leans his cane against a bookshelf.

She is aware of him being in the room, oh how she is aware. His presence fills her lungs, expanding them, pushing the walls further out, helping her breathe again. She lifts her eyes to him, to those cool blue eyes fixed on her, looking at her and through her. She shudders and pulls her sweater tighter on her body.

-Why are you here? –she finally asks, after what seems an eternity.

-To find out why you're here.

She looks away, never stopping the rocking. It calms her, reminds her of her childhood, where she wants to go back, she wants to be a child with no responsibilities, no compulsions, just laughter and ice-cream. She can't possibly tell him what happened. Oh, night crawlers, take him away from here, I want to be alone, she sobs inwards.

-Are you pregnant?

His voice cuts through the silence reigning in the room, and grazes her face with such sharpness that she gasps. Her hand starts shaking, she can't stop it, she doesn't want to break down and make a fool of herself, but she desperately needs someone to hold on to.

-How…? –she starts, then falters.

-You have been displaying all the symptoms of morning sickness –he says quietly, suddenly scared to death of her reply. He knows he is right, of course; he could have seen it earlier, and here she is, shaken to pieces.

Her tears start running down her cheek. She can't and doesn't want to stop them, hoping that after a certain amount of tears wept she will feel better. Or forget it all.

-I was –she whispers.

-Wh… what do you mean?

His head is spinning and he feels as weak as a newborn lamb, surrounded by danger all around. He knows what she means. The knowledge makes him silent and makes his brain, his limbs, his everything stop. He is above the precipice he fears most. He never wants to hurt people and yet he always does it, and here he did it again, hurting the woman who loves him with all her heart, hurting her so many times.

-I had an abortion yesterday –she says, her voice strangely calm now.

There, I've said it out loud, she thinks, and lets out a big sigh. Relief, stingy relief comes, but goes away in the next second. She said it, and the realization weighs down on her, it gets worse, she has to do something, she has to move, so she stands up and takes a few steps. Instinctively, towards him. He draws her towards him so hard that she feels like she's floating closer to him, sitting there motionless.

-The father didn't want it? –he asks. He has no idea how he manages to utter those horrible words.

She stops, looks down on him, feeling light as a feather. She feels like she can tell him anything, so she does.

-I don't know. I was raped a few weeks ago. I was sleeping at the hospital.

Her voice is quiet, so quiet, and as she stands there, statue of angelic beauty and soothing peace, he is wondering what might go on inside her. And what will go on inside her when he tells her. He bites his lip, turns away, watching her carpet, her books, wishing dearly he could turn back time.

-No you weren't –he says, his raucous voice making her heart leap.

-Sleeping at the hospital? –she asks, not knowing is she should laugh or cry.

-Raped.

He looks at her, into her eyes, all big and wide and asking him so much, he can't take it, he just can't.

-It was me –he continues, never taking his eyes off her.