A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Life is crazy. Dad's cancer battle continues, and some extra time and attention went to him this Christmas. It might be his last one, though I hope not. Several other balls are also being juggled. Overall, aside from cancer, things are good, just busy. I hope you all had a good holiday season.
As you might recall from the last chapter, Wilson had just asked a question. Now for a short but critical chapter in this story.
(H/C)
Cuddy stood there motionless, her voice as frozen in surprise as the rest of her. Wilson waited, looking up at her, his warm chocolate eyes full of anticipation.
"I -" She managed to make some sound at last. Wilson, having expected the possibility of one of two words, neither of which started with I, wilted a little. "I can't, James. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday, but just not yet."
He scrambled to his feet. "What do you mean? Don't you remember the promise we made to each other once back then?"
"We were kids," Cuddy responded. "We didn't even know what love was; we were too young."
"But we're not young now." He gripped her arm. "Meeting each other again all these years later - it's like destiny, Lisa. This was meant to be." He tried to move in closer, and she backed up a step.
"James, we've only known each other as adults for a few months. I'm not saying no necessarily. I'm just saying this is too fast. We need to learn more about each other now, get to know the people we've become. Marriage is too big to rush into if you want it to be a success."
He let her widen the distance, beginning to believe that for tonight, at least, he really had no chance. "You're sounding like your father," he told her.
She flinched but held firm. "Dad was right. There's nothing wrong with trying to make all areas of your life a success."
"But what about adventure?" he countered. "What about the unexpected? Have you ever once allowed yourself to do something based on feeling, to seize a moment without considering it logically from all sides for a few days first?"
Abruptly, her mind retreated to that memorable evening that had started on this same roof when House - the Maestro - had first openly revealed himself to her, had called her to him. And she had gone with him, had crossed the forbidden fence, had even let herself be blindfolded. She had walked, unseeing, into the unknown. That one evening in her life, at least, yes, she had felt adventure and excitement.
Wilson apparently realized that her thoughts had abandoned him and that the softening of her features belonged to another. "There's someone else, isn't there?" he asked.
Cuddy started to deny it, then pulled herself up on the edge of the words. She didn't have to explain or defend herself to Wilson, nor trot out for his inspection a list of all her acquaintances, especially the tortured genius who thankfully wasn't up here tonight with them. "I said not now, James. That answer isn't going to change, not for quite a while, maybe never. We'll see when we have more time to know each other."
He finally accepted it, at least for the moment. "Okay, if that's what you need. Don't blame me if I keep trying, but you're worth waiting for, Lisa." He picked up her hand, raised it to his lips to kiss it dramatically, then dropped it and turned away. "I'll see you tomorrow around the hospital. Good night." He turned and walked to the stairwell door.
Once the catch on the door had clicked behind him, Cuddy let out a long sigh. "Now what?" she asked herself. What would her father, the successful businessman, the successful everything, make of this situation?
What would her father make of her going with the Maestro that night? Or of her violating HIPAA? Or of her conspiring with a nurse at the hospital to help hide a fugitive from the law?
What did she care what her father would think about it? She had her reasons; she didn't need his approval in everything. That novel, tentative thought startled her as much as Wilson's question had. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Walking to the wall, she looked out over the city, watching the points of light defying the overarching darkness. "I know what I'm doing, Dad," she finally said aloud. "This is my life. It's not yours, not any longer. I have the right to live it for myself." A little afraid at her daring, she looked around as if her father might appear on the spot to impose his efficient authority once again, but there was nothing, not a movement, not a rustle. She was alone. With a final look out at the city, she turned for the stairwell herself.
Once the catch on the door had clicked behind her, there came a long sigh from the depths of the shadow beyond the fence. The Maestro - House - moved forward and stood at the gate, looking through the bars, the intensity in his eyes burning a hole in the darkness.