It wasn't until they reached the bedroom that Cuddy realized she had forgotten to bring a change of clothes. Again. House calmly peeled off his Ramones tee shirt and handed it to her.

They climbed into bed in silence.

Patiently she listened as his breathing fell into a deep steady rhythm, and then waited fifteen more minutes to make sure he was asleep.

As always he was turned slightly on his left side to keep the weight off his bad leg. Ever so carefully Cuddy inched her way over, wrapped an arm around his waist, letting the heat of his skin envelope her.

We only hurt the ones we love.

Did Gregory House really say that?

Cuddy was there from the beginning and had seen everything. After the surgery he was devastated. After Stacy left he was destroyed. For the last eight years all she could do was watch as he cut himself off from the rest of the world. He hid behind his moodiness and snarkiness, his only human connection—of you could call it that—being Wilson.

But now…

Now he was trying to connect with her.

Is that so?

Why her? And why now?

The answers to those questions would never reach her ears. Cuddy could speculate all she wanted: Maybe the solitude he craved had turned into loneliness. Maybe he was finally ready to move on. In the end, all that analysis would be an exercise in futility. Greg House would never let his true motives be known even if it meant the firing squad.

He shifted, a low murmur escaping the back of his throat. Cuddy held her breath. After a few seconds he sighed and the slow deep breathing continued. She nuzzled his neck, her arm gliding up his chest, feeling his heart beat underneath her hand.

Hopefully you won't have to learn that lesson like I did.

The woman he loved had left him, and now he was afraid it was going to happen all over again.

Why are you so afraid of that, Dr. House? Cuddy thought. Would that mean having to admit you care about someone? Sometimes you push me away, but you have never told me to stay away. Do you want to rejoin the human race?

Again, it was all speculation.

But here she was, wearing his tee shirt, sleeping in his bed. He had some cause to reach out to her. She was doing something right in his eyes.

He's not just going to spill his guts to you, Lisa. Let him go at his own pace.

Fine.

And stop with dime-store conjecture unless you want to drive yourself to four day bender.

Lisa Cuddy packed up her speculation, maybe she could drag it out again on a rainy day. She drifted off and felt his heart beat beneath the palm of her hand.