A/N: Inspired by the The Fray song 'Little House'. Very angsty, only my second House fic and my first Cuddy/House. Feedback wonderfully appreciated!
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
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She watches as he lies sleeping beside her in his bed. She examines the way his chest rises and falls with every deep breath. She looks him over closely, memorizing every detail and glad he isn't awake to make a sarcastic remark about how cliché that sounds.
Her eyes fall on his wrists, and her fingers reach out to gently graze the pale white of the long-ago healed scars.
It shouldn't surprise her (after all, she knows what he's been through, knows the pain he endured) but it does.
She wonders briefly if Stacy knew. If she cared, if she found out, if she tried to stop him.
If she did stop him.
Lisa shakes her head to herself. No, he never would've let her find out. He would've done it in secret. Locked away in the bathroom when she wasn't home or during his coffee break at work.
He would never show a weakness such as that.
He probably didn't expect her to find out, either.
She traces the criss-cross of narrow lines, thinking that they almost form a pattern. Typical Gregory House, she smirks. Still rational, even with this.
Lowering herself to lay beside him, she runs her fingers over the slightly rough patch of skin on the inside of his wrist one more time.
And she silently promises herself that she'll never let him resort to that, not ever.
At least, not as long as she's around to stop him.
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End