Author's Note: And here we are at chapter seven. Hello everybody! I know it has taken a tad longer to update due to the fact that I had to write the chapter. Funny how things work, right? Anyway, I would like to thank my reviewers: Chromo26 (I'm sorry! Here's your escape from the calc. induced misery that may or may have not ended long ago!), lijep (I am flattered due to the fact that you write House/Cameron stories but are waiting impatiently for this chapter; well, here you are), Little Lunar Wolf (yes, the nitty-gritty of House's emotions does come out in these later chapters; plus, there's a tremendous House/Cuddy scene in the next chapter), derevkobristow-spawn (what a cool name and review; your update is here), lemonjelly (Jade, even if the world was about to end, and you were the last person to review my story before the Earth imploded, my head would be as huge as it was—if not huger— when I read your review), Lizzy Sidle (no, Lizzy, seriously, you don't have to be a constant reviewer; like your awesome personality, you are totally random and cool, which is, coincidently, like your reviews as well), and Scrubs (yes, I did hear your suggestion, but I have a sort of impulse to use the word air in a creative manner; the cause of this impulse: Douglas Adams).

Disclaimer: If I owned House, would I just be sitting here woefully wishing that I owned him? Well, probably not.

Spoilers: I would do a gigantic, "Um…" here, but, I just going to say no.

Note: This is not one of my favorite chapters, but I did work rather hard on it. It is a little melodramatic and wordy, and I cannot help that. I am, per say, a "wordy" person; I try to use all the words in my vocabulary to help define my writing. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Either way, they're words.


Chapter Seven: A Catalyst for Feelings

And, when morning came, a confrontation would come with it. Fortunately, for her, in the beauty of the sun, her feelings were hidden.

But Night was different. Night was a catalyst for her feelings.

At night, as she lied in her bed with only a presence within her to comfort her, her feelings for House erupted, flooding her mind. Stirrings flashed in her subconscious, and visions of what was contained in her dreams were presented more openly. Her face became flushed, and a sense of arousal crept upward along the sides of body, a nauseating tingling that comforted and worried her simultaneously.

Melodrama may have been present, but it was masked by the subtle symbols that littered her arousals. The symbol of winter embodied a time of development, and the image of stars symbolized security.

But her dreams were much more intense than these brief stimulations.

Her dreams had a complex simplicity, one that could not be discerned by even the most lucid eye. They were mysterious, passionate, and vivid, and, in all of the detail, she found herself floating.

Or, she found herself floating right into his arms. She found herself kissing him, letting her lips grace his, and she allowed herself to do whatever she wished with him. But was it really her, or was it the night?

It was the night. She didn't love him.

But, if that was so, why did the evidence point in the opposite direction?

It was purely irony and nothing more. And this supported her side of the internal debate. In her job, the evidence was misleading, and, on some occasions, caused destruction and agony to whomever it was related to. But the evidence on most occasions would guide them to the answer. It would lead them along a secure path that, even in its safety, winded and twisted in every which way until the end was found and greeted with open arms.

But she folded her arms across her chest when this proof came near, self-consciously hiding behind the only shield she had.

At least she still had her shield. House had lost his long ago. Or had he gotten a new one, and she had not noticed?

But, although she did not immediately recognize it, it was her who had received another shield, but she did not wield it proudly.

Her new shield was the baby, and it would help her create an excuse for the feelings she had for him that were in desperate need of liberation. With this power, Cuddy would be able to let free her love, but, she would be able to do it discreetly through the baby.

This life within her was no longer an irritant, but rather, it was another catalyst for her feelings.

Life from within is the sweetest of all, for when you trip, you're not alone when you take the fall.

But not even this catalyst could thwart her arousals. She could still feel his hand landing softly but squarely on her collarbone before progressing downward her body. She could still achieve that sensation of pure ecstasy when she thought about his face close to hers, and, as always, she could always let her mind go numb with the memories, allowing it to follow a downward path that it followed while intoxicated.

But, unfortunately, at the moment, she was able to think and not the least bit inebriated.

She was just melancholic, for she had allowed her feelings to depress her, deflate her, dominate her, drown her in her own self-pity.

Sighing, she once again turned lethargically, letting her back gently hit the white linen. And stroking her wrist bone longingly, she drifted into the world of sleep, allowing her dreams to conquer her subconscious mind.

But dreams would not keep her over-whelming desire content forever.

Protect your dreams that split at the seams the moment you awake, for every wasted fantasy is just one more wish you cannot make.


She embraced herself in the shower, uniformly crossing her arms and placing her hands upon her collarbones, allowing the water to slip down like a translucent dress. And she just stood there, the hot water pricking at her fair skin, needles of heat prodding and poking her every which way. Today she would have to confront him, her shields in tow. But, in the pit of her stomach, an anxiety was forming, a nauseating tingling sensation that made her feel a discomfort. Abruptly turning the water off, she got out of the shower.

But, as she reached for a towel, Cuddy was over-taken by a severe bout of nausea, and she quickly placed herself beside the toilet.

If only you could transition consequences like him, to allow them to burden another being and not you. But, it is his skill and his alone, and you have not a clue.

She stood, wiping the mouth with her hand and regaining her composure. How was it that two people could become of the same position for only a few hours and commit the same actions, and yet, only one side of the party would suffer the consequences? How did so many people claim that the position of males on the hierarchy was much above the position of females and not realize that women were the bearers of life? Without them, life would have ceased to exist eons ago, and there would be no men or women to inhabit the Earth. Was it because men held a key component that was needed to aid in the making of this life? Or was it because a woman's anatomy was not as well-built? But, if that was so, how were women able to carry life for elongated periods of time while men only could watch? Even in her position, it was all a complete mystery that had plagued her mind for too long.

She walked out of the bathroom, the fresh thoughts in her mind stewing for use later. But, she could sense that it wouldn't be much later.

And she knew she was right when she heard the tap of a cane against her door.

It was going to be one of those days.


House stood outside of her door, allowing the sun to fall on his figure. He knocked one, twice, and then raised his cane up to his shoulder where it rested gently on the material of his jacket.

He could hear agitated footsteps coming down the stairway towards the door.

"Hello."

"What do you want? You and I need to go to work, and, as much as you detest the clinic, it's part of your job. If you've come here to persuade me to change my mind, you're wasting your time."

"I feel a strange sense of déja vu… Haven't we had a discussion like this before?"

As custom, she glared at him, through him, anywhere near him, and it had been proven in the past that this tactic work well whenever it was used.

"Really, if you came here just to taunt me, then you're wasting your time."

He looked down, not towards the ground, but towards her abdomen. He couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Is there something you would like to share, Dr. House?"

He looked up at her, the slight smirk instantaneously vanishing from his lips, and the light in his eyes gone without a trace.

"No. I just came to give you these."

He handed her the white envelope, and then walk away.

"Hey, um, House."

He looked back, a slight imploring gaze sprouting in his eyes.

"Thank you."

And with that, he meandered back to his car and drove away, not an utterance of words ready to be spoken.

Silently, she closed the door to her house and then slid down against it, touching the wooden floor and sighing simultaneously, and opening the envelope, she retrieved the pictures.

She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of him fingering these images, holding each one in his hand and staring with gentle eyes. She stood and placed the envelope on the table, once again opening the door and walking outside.

Maybe it was he who needed a catalyst for his feelings, not her.

Clutch your catalyst greedily and protect it from the elements, because any being who is lost without such a revolutionary entity is one who laments.

And, triumphantly, she strode towards her car and got into it.

It was going to be one of those wonderful days.


Author's Note: There, a slightly happy ending for those who like it. Anyway, read and review as you wish, and I'll see you at the next chapter. That will be up by Wednesday, I promise! Thanks again!