Hi there!

This one-shot, as you'll see it, is a post-Wilson's heart. It takes place about a month after the ending of that episode.

This one is for my bestie, I hope you'll like it Babe, you waited sooo much :*

Enjoy it and let me know what you did think !

4. Go on long walks.

Nothing is worse than suffering from a depression in autumn. Autumn is an aggravating circumstance. (*)

An aggravating circumstance. Depression.

The wind made its way throughout the man's coat, again. He slightly trembled, the fresh air contrasted with his body's warmth. He tightened the cloth around him and let out a sigh; the hot air formed an imperceptible cloud when it met the cold, fresh air of autumn.

A golden leaf danced a few seconds in the air before falling onto the ground in a muffled sound, joining the already fallen leafs. House observed them. A multitude of yellow and red shadows were forming a little heap on the floor, already. The trees had lost the major part of their dresses, and yet, it was early October.

He watched the still green leafs as he mentally made the count of the time that passed since the incident. Twenty-three days. His eyes followed the trajectory of another orange leaf as it joined the ground too. Darker leafs were on the bottom of the soft mounds, brown ones were already discomposing, melting so they feed mushrooms.

Twenty-three days had passed. He didn't see Wilson since the day Amber died. The thought made him frown, his fingers trembled slightly and he put them in his coat's pockets after adjusting his brown-cotton bonnet. He buried his face into his scarf as he tried not to think about the deep ache in his thigh and heart.

House shake his head when the souvenir of Wilson's last glare came to his mind, as if it would disappear doing so. He didn't feel guilty about her death itself but was blaming himself for his friend's grief and his non-ability to comfort him. Comfort him. He let out a bitter laugh at the thought as he looked at his left. Comforting people was the last thing he'd do; and, it wasn't like he was that good at it.

The wind blew harder but House didn't move, he closed his eyes and rubbed his thigh for a while; he sighed as the pain faded a bit and let him breathe correctly, for the moment. He frowned as he felt more than heard the quit and muffled sound of her footsteps and as her scent intoxicated his senses. Confusion overwhelmed him when he felt both annoyed and relived that she came.

A leaf danced in the air before falling onto the picnic table where he was sitting, he once more looked at it till it reached the wooden-table before looking up. He met her gaze: concerned. House said nothing and neither did Cuddy, they just looked at each another for a while and broke the eye-contact almost immediately, abruptly.

She analyzed him with a slight frown, he didn't look good. The collar of his pink shirt was visible under his dark coat which seemed to be oversized, or did he lose some weight. It didn't surprise her, the non-entertained three-days-beard he wore told her he was neglecting himself.

With a bitter smile, Cuddy settled herself on the table beside him, she kept looking at him. "How did you find me?" House finally asked, a few moments later, although he could stay silent for hours, just there, beside her.

"You were hiding?" she quipped, her voice low and warm.

He gave her an annoyed look but didn't add a word, waiting for an answer, if she felt to do so. Cuddy left a couple seconds pass and cleared her throat. "You didn't show up for a week," she said, sighing afterward.

"The Clinic was empty without me?" he teased, not even smiling.

"The Clinic is doing pretty well without you." She turned her face away. "But you... Are you okay, House?" she asked, facing him again.

"I am not the one who died," House said in a bitter voice.

"It's not -

"It's not my fault, I know," he completed for her.

"You did more than what had to be done," she added.

"It wasn't enough."

A heavy silence followed, only broken by the wind and the sound of their respirations. "You're in for a walk?" Cuddy suddenly asked, more to fill the blank than for anything else. He looked at her, raised an eyebrow and considered the degree of her serious.

"Cane vs. heels?" he teased, looking at the both with a hint of a sarcastic smile.

"We'll go slow," she answered him, already jumping on her feet.

Her voice was low and gentle, inciting without being formal; it was not an order, it was just an invitation. She turned back to face him and gave him an encouraging smile, their eyes met for a second but they immediately looked away.

She looked beautiful. Tucked in her coat, her high-heels-boots and a pair of black jeans, she looked so natural and yet so beautiful. He liked her coat. And her freed curled hair. He liked her came. And he liked her at that moment where their eyes met. The thought freaked him out and he wanted to run away, again. There was too much like in it. He didn't like that, he didn't want to like her, didn't want to make her miserable like he was. Because that was all he could offer her.

"Come on," she whispered as she saw him hesitate. Her voice drew him out of his torpor.

He considered the suggestion and the pain in his thigh; both seemed to be good. House put his foot onto the ground, the left before the right, just in case. He made his 'I don't want to do this but I have no choice' face as he reached for his cane and followed Cuddy who made a few steps forward after rolling her eyes.

He adapted his footsteps to hers and they made their way by the walkway to the neighbored forest. Silence covered the air, even the birds stopped singing. Cuddy shot him a look and nodded slightly, tightening the belt of her coat around her waist when she looked back in front of herself as she met his gaze.

House looked back to the bunch he left a minute before and wondered if it was safe for his leg to go on a walk. Cuddy looked at him as he did and asked him if he wanted to go back on their steps. Yes, he mused. But somehow, and for some reason, he shook his head in negation and walked a bit quicker. She followed him and walked beside him, they slowed their footsteps as they entered the forest.

No word was said, as if they made a silent pact. And there was something special in it. They just synchronized their footsteps so both of them would be comfortable and walked. Only the rhythmic sound of their steps and the wind filled the air.

"I was worried," Cuddy said, ten minutes later.

"I know."

"About both of you," she added carefully.

"I'm fine," he simply replied, avoiding the direction she was leading them to.

"You're everything but fine, House."

He avoided a mushrooms area and flinched when his cane sank in the moisten ground.

"You're saying that as you knew me," he cut her off, too coldly even for him. Because she was right. He wasn't exactly fine and he didn't know why Amber's death was still affecting him that way. Guilt was something he felt in the first place, but now, he certainly was not feeling it. He didn't feel better, although. Wilson was the obvious answer although he didn't allow himself to admit it.

"I know you enough," Cuddy replied gently but firmly, still. She didn't resent him for his coldness or anger but did not want him to get too far with it.

He looked at her and for a moment, they stopped walking. "Why?"

"I told you. I was worried," she replied, obviously. She walked in front of him and he followed.

"No. Why are you worried," House pointed as he arrived at her height.

It was her turn to look at him. "I don't know. I wish I didn't, thowdugh," her answer came. "You're not easy to worry about." She smiled. He hit a pebble with his cane and kept doing so as they continued walking. Silence overwhelmed them again, in contrast with the noise their thoughts made in their heads. So, they kept walking slowly throughout the almost dark forest.

"Take," House said, handing her his scarf as he saw her tremble because of the cold wind that infiltrated into her coat and throughout her clothes and bare neck. "You worried about me, it's fair."

Cuddy kept looking at him disbelievingly, which made him realize he was acting totally out of character. He felt the urge to turn the situation into derision. "I am warmed anyway. And I'm not totally sure what you're wearing under that coat," he added, gesturing at her chest. She couldn't help but smile.

Cuddy took the dark cloth and put it around her neck, thanking him in a murmur and trying not to pay attention to the scent of his it held. But it was hard not to when it also had the warmth of his that comfortably enveloped her too.

He nodded as he watched her hook his scarf around her neck and looked down to the ground and to the cloudy sky afterward before fixing a point in front of him. He silently hoped it wouldn't rain.

"How is he?" House asked. His voice was almost inaudible. Hesitant, too.

"He's breathing."

His features hardened with that response and his grip around his cane tightened.

"You should go see him," Cuddy carefully added, looking everywhere but where he was.

"He wants to be alone." The wind took away the soft sound his long sigh made as he said it, remembering the last look Wilson gave him, just after her death. "And so do I. Why are you here?"

"He needs to be alone," she pointed out. "You don't."

"I am alone," he bitterly told her.

"You're so wrong," Cuddy said, half-laughing and shaking her head in desperation. "Why don't you just let anyone in? It hasn't to be me, you can just –

"I'm good, thank you."

"You're right. I don't even know why I keep caring for someone who doesn't care for himself," Cuddy said, the same coldness covering the tone of her voice. Neither of them expected the direction that conversation was taking.

"What are you waiting for to run away? I didn't ask for –

She was walking ahead when he stopped, standing with difficulty when his thigh protested against the long effort he demanded her. His right hand rubbed the scar in his leg trough his jeans, tempting to release the increasing tension in it. He sat on a tree stamp as he started feeling dizzy and not sure he could stay standing for long.

Cuddy was a few feet away when she realized he'd stopped for too long. Panic surrounded her as she joined him and saw pain painted on every inch of his face. She leaned toward him and he could see genuine worry in her eyes, not pity. "You're okay?"

"Do I seem to be okay?" he screamed, out of control.

Her eyes moistened, not expecting a so violent reaction from him, but she rapidly recollected herself and approached him more. "I am sorry," she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. Which she took off as soon as she met his gaze, cold.

"Stop being sorry." House kept massaging his thigh, somewhat uncomfortably. He wasn't used to show his pain.

"Is… Is there anything I can do?" she asked instead of saying she was sorry again.

"Shut up. And go," he answered, not even looking at her.

"No."

Her answer made him raise his head to meet her eyes, he saw such a determination he was almost ashamed by his own behavior. "It's okay not to be okay," Cuddy said, locking their eyes with each another. He couldn't turn his head, although it was what he wanted.

"Why is it that important?"

She unhooked the scarf he gave her earlier and put it around his neck when she saw him tremble. He had a recoil when she did so and tried to pull the scarf away but she gently put her hands on his to stop him. "You're trembling," she told him as he looked at her hands on his.

"I'm hot," he nonchalantly responded.

"It's fever."

"You're a doctor?" he asked sarcastically but without a hint of amusement. Cuddy broke the contact and let her hands fell down along her body. He moved a bit, reaching for the amber bottle into his jeans pocket and shedding it from two pills, then swallowing them.

"You want me to –

"I don't need you," House cut her off, standing up and heading to the forest's exit.

He felt the urge to turn away as soon as she touched his hands. Her touch awakened memories he did want to burry. He didn't want to feel better as soon as she touches him, or be comfortable or relieved with her sole presence, he did not want to depend on her. Or on anyone.

"I am not asking you to fucking need me!" she yelled, still standing where he left her –a few steps behind him.

And yet, he did.

"You just need to understand that you need something." He stopped and gave her a quizzical look.

"I don't believe in that something," he muttered, looking away, not saying the word either.

He believed in the kind of love that didn't demand him to prove his worth and sit in anxiety. He craved a natural connection, where his soul was able to recognize a feeling of home in another. (**)

"You're too hard with yourself."

"This way doesn't lead to an outcome; it's like rushing right into a wall, it hurts," he softly said, his voice calm and casual.

"It's not a general truth," Cuddy countered.

"It's what mostly happen."

"House…"

"Would you want something with me?" he asked all of a sudden.

He wanted something free-flowing, something simple. Something that allowed him to be himself without question. She was that something. (**)And it scared him how easily he came up with that conclusion, but wasn't happy with it, though. The sole thought that it wasn't a shared feeling stopped him from telling her that.

"What's so wrong with you? What damaged you to this point, House?" she tried to know, approaching him again. He didn't answer, only shocking his head and letting out a soft but heavy sigh. And she didn't insist, she knew he wouldn't say anything if he didn't want to or if she pressured him. They walked beside each other for a few steps when he dared answer.

"You'll easily get bored."

A slight laugh passed the barrier of her lips. "I'm tougher than you think," she acknowledged him, fixing the barely distinct sunset in front of them. "And I don't want you to change."

Cuddy cast him a look. "I'll drive you home."

"Home," he repeated in a distant voice. She kept walking throughout the walkway in complete silence and so did he, the sleeves of their coats touched at times but not their skins. Her palm accidentally grazed his for a second after what, House stepped aside with the terrible desire to feel her hand against his, just like it was when he woke up at the hospital and a few minutes before, when she stopped him from pulling off his scarf.

Almost shyly, as he was afraid of her reaction, he gently took her right hand. He tried to make it nonchalant, natural but he was not used to that kind of things and felt terribly uncomfortable and strangely good at the same time. She hooked their fingers once she felt he wouldn't retract, giving him the assurance and affection he needed, although she was surprised by his gesture at the first place.

They didn't say a word, again. Not one single look was shared, either. The fragility of that moment was too big to risk destroying the whole of it with one of their silly comportments. He felt like he was entering home, and, surprisingly, that vulnerability it held didn't push him to run away.

She squeezed his hand a bit when they joined the park again, pushing him to look at her. Cuddy gestured to the other side of the park and told him her car was parked there; he agreed and left her hand as he told her he'd wait here there.

He breathed sharply, looking at her as she walked and looked down at his own hand, which was holding hers just a second before and remembered the touch of hers and how it felt good. Admitting that cost him a lot but he did, he allowed himself to feel it and be in the moment, without thinking about the second it will all fall apart.

They arrived at Baker Street ten minutes later, the streets were almost empty. Neither of them said a word during the ride until they were parked in front of House's apartment. "Let me know if you change your mind and decide to believe," she said as she unlocked the car's doors.

His blue eyes met hers for what seemed forever. He felt the urge to look away, and the need to touch her. The freedom she offered him relieved him and eased if not all, some of his doubts.

She hadn't look away when he came back to reality, her gaze was still riveted on him and his drifted to her lips. House considered the wisdom of the act he was bursting to do but drove away all the rational thoughts that would stop him from caressing the lips of hers when Cuddy bit her lip while looking at his.

He drove them into a soft and tender kiss, tasting her first and letting her do the same. He kissed her and she kissed back, she let him take control of the soft, light caress they were sharing. House kissed her deeper, his tongue matching perfectly with hers as their breaths met and melt into each other, warm and gentle. She craved his face with her hands and gently caressed his cheeks as their tongues danced. His right hand settled on her waist while the other one cupped the back of her head, holding her closer.

She moaned softly into his mouth and he wanted it to last forever.

Breathless, he glanced at his apartment's door behind him and hesitate; that was unknown ground for him and he wasn't sure about the next move. "We'll go slow," she whispered as she saw him.

She smiled and he smiled back.

THE END.

(*) Diane Meur.

(**) Inspired by Joey Palermo.

I also apologize for any mistake I made.

R&R?