Author's Note: Wow, all of you guys are incredible; twenty-five reviews! How do you manage that? Anyway, I'd like to thank GsdSheba (always beautiful dear, always), lemonjelly (your review is great! You should get more like those, not the usual "humdrum" review!), Lizzy Sidle (always a pleasure to read yours, my friend; great ending to "Vacation"!) Scrubs (holy crap, that review has changed me! Anonymous reviewers unite! I may change the word), Ritaann (your writing is wonderful, and so aren't your reviews; there's no need to sigh), prinnie (I still love that e-mail, and I love the review; thank you for replying!), FriendsHolic (a loyal reader and reviewer; I'll tell you why Cuddy is being moody and a … Well, you know), and Tali- Sara (yes, your review is important; I try to help others like my story as well).

Disclaimer: I may not own the show, but I'm still going to buy Hugh Laurie that sarcastic whip. Anyone want to pitch in for it? We can all sign it!

Spoilers: Eh, none that I know of, but I'm usually wrong.

Note: Okay, as for Cuddy being a witch, —I'm not one for swearing—imagine this: You're pregnant with the child of a man you secretly love. You had insulted him because you didn't want him to know how you really felt, but, what you don't know is, he loved you too and insulted you for the same reasons. So, you continue to insult him, but you have to lay it thick; if anyone finds out, the result would be embarrassing. Oh yes, and more House/Cuddy interaction will be in later chapter, don't worry.


Chapter Four: Brink

She may have been on the brink of understanding, but her revelation was halted by the image of him that had already been imprinted in her mind.

House was a callous, abrasive, and obnoxious man who flaunted his whip of sarcasm like he did his tenure. His eyes, although seeming to be gentle at first glance, were painted over with a coat of indifference, and his lips, although having experienced love from a woman, felt virgin, like the sands at the beginning of the Earth. Externally, he radiated a miserable air, but, internally, he was a vast labyrinth of feeling.

He had always locked away his feelings, each one trapped in the maze. And that was his intention. If all of his feelings were lost, then he would not be burdened by them. But, to his misfortune, one or two would venture from the maze and would find their way to his mind. And there, they would be released.

That was exactly what had happened.

A bearing of emotion came back, washing over him in such a way that it could not be contained by his traps.

And, although it aggravated him, she rather enjoyed it.

Standing, she walked towards the door, broadly beaming at her new found sense of power.


"So, how did it go?"

House looked at Wilson in an exasperated manner before replying. He entered the office and reclaimed his spot on the floor.

"I thought the scowl would be a dead giveaway. I guess not."

"That bad?"

"Have you ever tried getting a deaf guy to hear?"

"No."

"Well, that's what it was like."

"I have a feeling you're lying to me."

"Everyone lies. Even I fall under the category of 'everyone'."

"Not when you're being obnoxious. Were you at least civil?"

"Of course. Cuddy may look like a man, but, at heart, she is all woman."

Cuddy stood in the doorway, a smirk crossing over her mouth as she watched him.

"You know, House, if you lay down all your big guns now, you'll have no defense for later."

He darted his eyes to her, their widening half in surprise, half in worry. He was surprised by her abrupt greeting, but he fretted the words that he sensed were resting just on the tip of her tongue. He stood and hobbled over to his desk, the every irritating click of his cane muffled by the carpet.

"Why hello again, Dr. Cuddy. Would you care to join us?"

"Actually, Dr. House, I would like to speak to you alone."

Wilson stood, silently leaving the room, a blank expression crossing his face. Whether he laughed and smiled or frowned and sighed, his curiosity would be uncontrollable, and it would cause him to return and inquire House about his dilemma even further.

"Yes? My colleague and I were having an intriguing discussion about your thighs."

Closing the door, she spoke haughtily.

"Why don't you just admit it?"

He stared at her, a naïve air gracing his features like a mask. And, although the sun peaked through the curtains and warmed his back, he could feel his fear of exposure once again cooling him like snow falling on warm, arid Earth.

"Admit what?"

"That, under your callous exterior, even you have feelings."

"I never said I didn't."

"Oh yes. And you only pick children off the side of the road like crows just because you're a nice guy."

"I only do it to the fat kids."

"House, can we please be serious here for a minute?"

She sauntered over to his desk, leaning over it, exposing her cleavage to him. He couldn't help but smile at her attempt to arouse him.

"And you believe showing me your fun bags is going to make me talk to you?"

"You smiled back there."

"Can't I smile? Or is it illegal to show happiness in a hospital?"

"You're not telling me something. Are you actually happy that I'm pregnant?"

"What would give you that idea?"

"House, you're in denial. Why don't you just admit that your feelings have finally over-powered you?"

"Because they haven't."

"I don't believe you."

She had begun to irk him, taunting him as though she was superior. But, oddly enough, he took pleasure in the fact that she was right. He had let his feelings overcome him, and now he had to suffer.

"Okay, listen up Cuddy, because I'm not saying this again. I'm a miserable person, and the hospital is a miserable place. I was made for here. Sure, it might comfort you at night thinking that one day I'll be strutting around a proud father, but, what you don't realize is that, I won't. The hospital is as much a child to you as it is to me; it's the only thing I truly care for besides Wilson. I support it, and it supports me. And I like that. Routine. Nothing changes. People die, people leave and live, and life goes on. But, with this, there's no routine. It's only changes. Maybe I like monotony, uniformity, what ever. The point I'm trying to make is: there's been enough change in my life. I don't need a child on top of it."

He paused, a moment of tension arising. He had realized it now. He was going to be a father, whether or not he wanted to accept responsibility. Chromosomes. Alleles. A sole merge between him and the one he claimed to hate. He envisioned the eyes. Lines of pure navy would streak across the iris, like veins of ice, and, they would rest gently atop the body of blue waves that would pleadingly gaze upon the face of the Lord. Blemishes of age would be nonexistent; every time he would look at this child's face, his mind would meander back to the period of his youth. The border of alienation between Cuddy and him would disintegrate, leaving in its wake only a wall that relieved both parties.

She stood in silence, allowing him the opportunity to speak, for, her in eyes, he was presented in a new light. In that room, as he stared at that screen, it was as though he had a new ambiance over him, an atmosphere of ecstasy rather than one the one he usually had: sorrow. But, now it disappeared silently, like it had evaporated back to its place of origin.

"So, is it okay to lay my big guns down now?"

House smirked, taking an over-whelming sense of pride in asserting his point in a composed yet intimidating manner.

"Could you explain something to me then? If you don't want to 'be strutting around as a proud father', then why did you stop me from having the abortion?"

"Because nothing that innocent deserves to die? Because there's no dignity in death? What do you want me to say, Cuddy? I already told you how I feel."

"Yeah, and it's a load of crap."

"You know, you're cute when you're angry."

"Greg, grow up."

And, with that, she stood and stormed out of his office, holding back the tears in the façade that was her mask.

To think you will carry a dead man's child, youth ever so tender and mild. And to think that he smiled from the heavens above, and he released you, like a dove.

She was carrying a dead man's child. Maybe not physically dead, but emotionally. Even so, why did she feel this great sense of respect? She was not one to be submissive, and yet, she had vacated her position of authority because of her feelings for him. Hierarchy may not have existed for either one of them internally, but on the outside world, it was painted for them in an array of contrasting colors. And it was the reality of it all that stung their eyes, not the way it was presented.

She was no longer on the brink of understanding, but she stood naked in front of the crowd once again.

Except this time she saw him there with her, sharing the fear of embarrassment and exposure.


Author's Note: Thank God this isn't the song that never ends, because if this went on and on my friends, even I would scream. Ha ha. Oh, that was a lame joke. Anyway, please, if you feel the sudden urge to review, let impulsivity take over for a while. I would appreciate it. As always criticism is welcome —no flames please. Thank you to all the people that have reviewed up to this point, and please, keep reading (and reviewing!)