A/N: For tiflissa, who so kindly nudged me to get this next part up by stroking my ego. (Hint, hint, more reviews mean more chapters!)

Chapter 25

Cuddy stood uncertainly outside Wilson's office door. House was right and she hated that. Normally she only hated that with a mild sort of irritation centered on the fact that she was truly a little jealous of his intelligence and his ability to solve the unsolvable puzzle. This was different; she hated that he could know how she was feeling when even she wasn't sure. She hated that even though until recently he couldn't manage a healthy relationship with another human being he could so accurately pinpoint the stumbling blocks in someone else's relationship. She hated that despite how hard she tried to hide her weaknesses to him they were as obvious as her cleavage. Sometimes she just hated him. Thank God he was around.

Cuddy tentatively knocked on the closed door and waited. She heard Wilson's faint call to enter and steeled herself to do what was hardest for her, admit that she was wrong and that she did, in fact, need him. She opened the door and stood in its entry.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Dr. Cuddy," Wilson replied frostily. He was hurt and he wasn't going to hide it. She had picked the one thing he was most insecure about, the one thing he tried so hard to change about himself and flung it in his face. He'd always forgiven House for that, but he hadn't expected it from her and it stung.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry," Cuddy said. Wilson softened, the tiniest bit, but recovered quickly. He wasn't sure sorry was enough? "I shouldn't have said that. It was cruel and thoughtless and … it was a lie."

Wilson raised his eyebrows at this remark. He studied her face for a long time before motioning for her to enter. Cuddy came fully into the office and sat on the couch. They stared at each other for a minute before Cuddy finally looked away. She couldn't stand the hurt in his eyes.

"I do need you," Cuddy said. She couldn't see Wilson's expression, because she was afraid to look. She was afraid she wouldn't like what she'd see. "I'm not used to needing anyone. My parents weren't well to do; I had to work to get through college and med school. I had to work twice as hard to earn respect as a doctor and three times as hard to get where I am and I had to do it on my own. I haven't needed anyone in a long time and I guess I just … I forgot that needing someone isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Wilson leaned back in his chair. That was completely not what he'd been expecting. Part of the reason he'd been so miserable this past week was because he'd assumed the worst. His experience in relationships had taught him when things got this bad you looked for a way out. He was sure when she'd opened the door that she had come to discuss a custody arrangement and how involved he'd want to be in the baby's life. She wanted back in, and that was new territory for Wilson.

"I … don't know what to say," Wilson said slowly. The idea that she would still want him had never occurred to him. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?" Cuddy asked, the tone of his voice suggesting maybe she could look at him and see what she hoped for.

"Worked it out," Wilson said. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do next."

Cuddy smiled. She'd never been in a long-term relationship, not since high school anyway, and she didn't know what they were supposed to do next either. Wilson stood from his chair and joined her on the couch. They sat side by side, Wilson's elbows resting on his knees and Cuddy's hands resting on her abdomen.

"I missed you," Cuddy said quietly.

"Me too," Wilson said. He leaned back on the couch and raised his arm. Cuddy leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her back. "What's next?"

"I don't know," Cuddy said. "Maybe its better if we don't know what we're 'supposed' to do. We'll just make it up as we go."

"And where do we go from here?" Wilson asked.

"Home," Cuddy breathed into his shoulder. Wilson tightened his hold on her and sighed.

House followed Cameron skeptically through the park. He had hoped, really strongly, that she would forget about this whole confession thing or that he would be able to convince her that it was stupid. No such luck. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what she might ask him and he was pretty sure he had at least a half way honest answer to all the questions. He'd even come up with a question to ask her about one of the only things he could imagine was left in her past that they hadn't already discussed.

Cameron stopped when she reached what she deemed to be a suitably out of the way spot for them. It wasn't too far from where they'd parked, always thinking of his leg, but was a secluded enough clearing in the trees. She spread out the blanket she'd been carrying and sat down. She looked up at House, who was now standing over her with an incredulous look on his face.

"Just sit down," she said. She was nervous as well. She figured House would probably ask her something stupid; she knew full well that he didn't really want to do this. She only hoped that he would take it at least a little seriously when she asked him her question.

Rolling his eyes and making a disgusted face, House dropped his cane on the edge of the blanket and sat down. Before Cameron could speak, he lay on his back and stared up at the leaves above him as they danced gently in the breeze. Cameron followed his lead and lay down as well, positioning herself so that the top of her head touched the top of House's.

"You can ask first, if it will make you feel better," Cameron offered. She knew House was nervous about this and she really hoped that if he asked and she gave him a completely honest answer he just might do the same.

"Okay," House said. Cameron waited. "Why did you marry your husband?"

"Why did I marry him? Or why did I marry a dying man?" Cameron asked.

"It's the same thing," House said.

"No," Cameron said quietly. "No it isn't."

"Okay," House said. He was confused; this was supposed to be an easy question, designed to get him off the hook. Now he was intrigued. "What's the difference?"

Cameron took a deep breath before replying. "I married my husband because I loved him."

"And the other part?"

"Everybody lies," Cameron answered.

"Meaning?" House asked. When Cameron didn't answer House came to a realization. "He knew he was dying; you didn't."

"He was in remission when we met. We fell in love; we got engaged. I…" Cameron's voice caught in her throat. House was surprised she seemed so uncomfortable with this, especially when she'd been so candid about everything else. "I think he started having symptoms but hid them. He was the one who suggested moving up the wedding. It wasn't until after we were married that he told me the truth. It was just getting too hard for him to hide anymore."

"So why did you stay?" House asked.

"The fact that he was dying didn't change the fact that I loved him. And it didn't change who he was," Cameron said.

"A guy who lied to you about the fact that he was dying?" House asked.

"My husband. You don't just walk away from that," Cameron said. "When my sister died, my parents gave up. They didn't walk away from me or each other, but they might as well have. I wasn't going to do that to him. People you love deserve better."

House rested his hands on his chest and tapped a steady rhythm. He always assumed that Cameron had known that her husband was dying but married him anyway because of guilt. It was a little unsettling for him to hear that he'd been so wrong about her. House knew he'd have to think about this more carefully, but before he let Cameron ask her question there was one more thing he needed to know.

"I have a follow-up question," House said. Cameron nodded; House could feel her head moving against his own. "What was his name?"

"Keith," Cameron said. She waited a minute or so to see if House had any other questions. "My turn."

House braced himself and held his breath, all the while mentally running through his list of responses. He began nervously tapping his fingers on his chest again, becoming increasingly tense as he waited.

"Are you happy?" Cameron asked. House released the breath he'd been holding and reeled. His leg, his parents, Stacy, hookers, marriage, even adoption had all crossed his mind. This wasn't on his list. And so he did what House did best.

"I'm cold and there's a pinecone in my butt," House replied.

"Greg," Cameron pleaded.

"Jesus, Allison, what do you want me to say?" House asked.

"Are you happy?" Cameron repeated.

"Right now?" House asked.

"Right now, in general, last Thursday … ever," Cameron said quietly.

House didn't know how to answer that question. He wasn't sure he'd ever really been happy. Content, yes. Pleased, certainly. But happy was different. Even if he hadn't been in constant pain because of his leg, he wasn't sure he knew how to be happy.

"I'm as happy now as I've been in a long time," House said reservedly. That was true, absolutely.

"But you're not happy," Cameron said.

"My leg hurts," House said defensively.

"You're not your leg," Cameron said. "So, as long as your leg hurts you can never really be happy?"

House had no answer for that either. How could he be happy when he was in constant pain? He couldn't run, he couldn't take her dancing, couldn't play golf. Hell, he couldn't even walk up a flight of stairs. Wasn't that enough to put a damper on any measure of happiness?

"I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe not. I'm not who I was or who I wanted to be."

"I know that," Cameron said. "But Greg, I accept who you are. It doesn't make you less, or make our love less or make my happiness less. Now you have to accept who you are."

"I know who I am," House answered angrily.

"Knowing something and accepting something are two different things," Cameron said. "I love you, just like this. I'm happy with you, just like this. Now you need to be."

House flung his bag into the corner of the room and went straight to the stereo. He turned on something loud; he wasn't even fully aware of what he was listening to. It didn't matter as long as it was loud enough to stop him thinking. He went into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He twisted the top off and tossed it on the counter. Leaning his cane against the island, he leaned back against the wall and took a few long swallows. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, but as he'd suspected no amount of volume was going to drive away his wildly swirling thoughts.

He limped caneless back into the living room and turned off the stereo, the resulting silence as thunderous as the music had been. He sat at the piano and rested his beer atop it, tunelessly fingering the keys. He thought about all Cameron had been through in her young life; losing a sister, neglectful parents, a drug problem, an abortion, a dead husband. She still managed to be happy.

In his mind, he compared Cameron's smile with the one Jasper had been blinding him with when Chase was in sight. There was a difference in those two smiles, beyond the two women's physical features. There was something in Cameron's smile that wasn't in Jasper's; it was subtle but it was there. Cameron's smile reflected her past. She knew real sorrow and her smiled showed a deeper appreciation for happiness. Jasper's smile was unmarred; it was more naïve. House chuckled to himself. More naïve than Cameron, how's that for irony?

The sound of a key in the lock startled House from his thoughts. He looked up as Wilson walked in. House sighed heavily; he'd forgotten Wilson was staying with him for the moment and he'd been looking forward to some quiet time to think about all he and Cameron had discussed.

"Hey," Wilson said. He dropped his keys on the small table beside the door. "I just came by to pick up my things." House nodded. Wilson noticed his pensive look and realized what day it was. "You and Cameron had your first … whatever you call it today, right? How'd it go?"

"Interesting," House said. He and Cameron hadn't actually discussed the rules of this thing. Was he allowed to talk to Wilson about it? It didn't matter, he was going to anyway. He kept his gaze carefully trained on the floor. "He lied to her."

"Her husband?" Wilson questioned, sitting down on the couch, his belongings forgotten. They'd already talked about what House would ask her.

"Didn't tell her he was sick until after they were married," House confirmed.

"And she stayed with him," Wilson said.

"She said people you love deserve better," House answered. There wasn't any real need to talk about that any further. He and Wilson had talked about this before too, when Stacy left him.

"So, what was her question? Your leg or your dad?" Wilson asked. He had figured those were the two most likely topics.

"She wants to know if I'm happy," House said. He looked up at Wilson. Wilson raised his eyebrows in response. That wasn't a question either of them had considered but now that it was out there, Wilson was more than a little curious to hear his answer. "I didn't know what to say. I'm happier than I was."

"But," Wilson prompted. House looked at his leg and then back at Wilson. "That's not all that you are."

"That's what she said," House scoffed. "Are you sure you two weren't separated at birth?" Wilson frowned at House. "I know it's not all that I am. But it's most of what I'm not."

"No," Wilson said. "She might buy that, but I've been here all along. The leg just gave you the out. The only reason you're not something is you."

House had no answer for that either. Wilson could sense he didn't want to talk anymore, so he got off the couch and gathered up his few things. When they were all packed in the duffel he stowed in the trunk of his car for these occasions, he looked back at House, still staring morosely at the floor.

"Whatever it is that you want to be and think you're not, you don't have to be that for everyone," Wilson said. He picked up the duffel from the couch and left.

There's the button - it's right there! Click it, you know you want to! JB