Author's Note: Thanks for the continued reviews, reads and subscriptions. Reviews are to me as Vicodin is to House. Finally wrote some sadness, but, not to worry, next chapter will probably have some more fun Cuddy/House stuff to balance it out. Hope you like it! And I don't own "House."

Previously in "The Stranger and Stronger Face":

Juliana paid the cab driver, thanked him and entered the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, making a beeline for the elevators. She pushed the call button and after a few seconds, the lift to her right arrived. The doors opened and she found herself face-to-face with a frustrated Lisa Cuddy and a surly Greg House. He glared at her as she stepped in, clearly unhappy with her presence. Juliana turned and hit the fourth floor button even though it was already lit.

"Good morning, Lisa," she said brightly.

"Morning, Jules," Cuddy replied with a smile.

"House," she said coldly.

She heard him exhale and tap his cane on the floor violently before speaking, "Let's get something straight--"

Chapter 7

"Here we go," groaned Jules.

"House..." Cuddy warned in a hushed tone. He shot her a dirty look before continuing.

"I have no desire to talk to you, I don't want to see you and I certainly don't want to engage in social niceties with you--"

"Like you're even capable of engaging in social niceties," Juliana snapped.

"The only reason why I've let you come into my hospital is because Cuddy informed me that it was a necessity. That being said, I don't want to bump into you ever again. So stay off the elevators, stay away from my office and don't eat lunch in the cafeteria between one and two. We clear?," he finished in the most intimidating tone he had.

"Yes."

"Good," he said and returned to face the front of the elevator, ignoring her once again.

"Now let me make something clear. I will ride the elevators if I want to, I will go where I want, and I will eat lunch whenever I damn well please. I don't care if you don't want to see me; I am not concerned about how my presence might effect your delicate sensibilities. I am here to see Wil. I'm here for him. You and your feelings don't even register. I am not your intern any more; I am not one of you fellows," her voice started to rise.

"Since we last saw each other I've changed, I've gotten older, I've matured, I am not scared of you. I am, however, still smarter than you. True, there was a point in time where I cared about what you thought, but I stopped caring when you started making my professional life hell on earth. I guess I was under the delusion that you could actually be civil, that you might've grown up, but, unfortunately, you're pitching the same temper tantrums. It is not my fault you screwed up your relationship with your girlfriend. It is not my fault she chose to leave you. I didn't do or say anything wrong. What happened was not my fault. I apologized hundreds of times, I am not going to indulge you any further, I am not going to beg for your forgiveness. It's been years. Move on."

Before House could answer her, the elevator doors slid open and Juliana got out. "I'll see you later, Lisa," she said quietly before taking off down the hall toward Wilson's office.

House stood in the lift, fuming, paralyzed by anger.

"House," Cuddy said softly, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

He jerked away from her touch and started to limp out onto the fourth floor, banging his cane on the ground with added force. Before the elevator doors closed he turned and said to Cuddy, "Keep her away from me. I know you're incompetent, but hopefully you won't screw this up." He spun around and continued down the corridor to his office, leaving a hurt Cuddy in his wake.

Jules flung open the door and entered James' office without knocking, catching him completely off-guard.

"You must be having a great day," he said as she slammed the door behind her and stood in front of his desk, arms crossed.

"I had a run-in with House on the elevator on the way up," she grumbled.

"Well, that explains things," he said, taking a long drink of coffee.

Juliana closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. As she opened them, she saw Wil sipping on his coffee and remembered the real reason she had come to Princeton Plainsboro that morning.

"We need to talk," she said solemnly.

He looked down, pretending to leaf through some files on his desk. "It will have to wait."

"It can't."

"It will have to. I have patients."

"Patients can wait," she said firmly.

"I don't want to do this here."

"Well, I don't want to wait."

He closed the file he was pretending to read, stood up and looked into her eyes, meeting her angry gaze. "This can hold--"

"No, it can't."

"Well, it will have to. I have patients that need to see their doctor, they need medication, they need reassurance, they need--"

"They need you to be sober." The words made his stomach drop, his breath momentarily caught in his throat.

"Listen, I know you think that you need to be worried about me, but you don't. I have everything under control."

"What exactly do you have under control?"

"It's not a big deal. I have a drink every now and then to cope, to help me get through the day."

She nodded to his coffee cup, "Are you coping now?"

"Really, you have nothing to worry about," he said reassuring her.

"So, those 28 bottles of booze I found in your apartment, they weren't yours? That's a relief. Here I thought that you were an alcoholic. But it's good to know that you have it all under control," she said sarcastically.

"Fine. If it makes you feel better, I'll stop. I can stop. I'm not an alcoholic. "

"You're drinking at work, in the middle of the day! You're hiding bottles! Cuddy says you don't do anything more, you don't bowl, you don't go movies, you just go to bars! The nurses can smell it on you! Doctors have seen you adding the pick-me-up to your morning coffee! There have been complaints! You could lose your job, you could lose your license! You can't even admit that you might have a problem!"

"I'll stop. I'll stop," he sighed, "Now, can I get back to work?"

Juliana stared at him concerned for a couple of moments, then she walked to his bookshelf, opened the leftmost glass door and began rummaging through things.

"Can I help you find something?"

"No," she said flatly, continuing her search. She moved a stack of books on the top shelf, finding a bottle of scotch hidden behind them. She put it on his desk. Wilson exhaled sharply, tired of the conversation and all the drama that went with it. Jules moved the medical journals and texts littering the second and bottom shelves, finding three airplane-sized bottles of scotch and tossing them on the desk before moving on to the middle of the case.

"I really do have to get back to work," he said, exasperated.

Juliana ignored him and continued her search. Two small bottles behind the globe, a flask behind the trophy, a large one behind the bear. She kept moving, gently shoving Wilson into the corner while she found two more bottles in the right cabinet.

Before Jules could move onto the desk, James grabbed her hand and said, "If you wanted a drink you could have just asked. I am willing to share. There was no need to make a mess."

She looked up at him, brow furled, tears welling up in her eyes, a hard expression on her face. He crossed his arms, guilty for making his sister cry, angry at her invasion of his privacy.

"Look," she said, motioning to the collection of bottles on his desk. "Ten. Just from the bookshelf. Who knows how many are in the desk or hidden in the couch cushions."

He rolled his eyes, "Nine. Technically, the flask is not a bottle. And I don't hide bottles in the sofa, they make the couch lumpy."

"Stop! Stop making jokes!"

"You're right, this is serious." Wilson picked up a large, depleted bottle from his desk. "I'm almost out of Johnnie Walker. You think you could drive me to the liquor store down the street to get some? I'd drive myself, but being that I'm so drunk, I wouldn't want to break the law."

"Listen to yourself! You sound like--"

"House? I sound like House? That's what you were going to say, right?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"House is an addict. I am not an addict," he replied.

"38 bottles. I found 38 bottles and I didn't finish searching your apartment or your office. You're an addict."

"What do you want me to do then?" he asked, defensively.

"Check yourself into rehab."

"I don't have a problem, I don't need to go to rehab."

"You've got to stop drinking! It's affecting your work, your personality--"

"Fine. I'll stop. I promise."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not Joe. I'm not House," he said sincerely, looking her in the eye. "I said I'll stop and I'll stop."

"Completely?"

"Completely."

"That means not alcohol of any kind."

"I promise. No alcohol of any kind."

"You have to throw away all the--"

"Done," he said, sweeping the bottles on his desk into the wastebasket, piling them on top of one another. "I guess I need to call maintenance."

For the first time since she had barged into his office, Juliana's expression softened.

"If you don't... I you can't stop... You'll check into rehab?"

"I don't need to--"

"You'll go to rehab?" she asked more forcefully.

"Yes."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded. Wilson closed the gap between them and gave her a hug. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine," he assured her. "I'll be fine."

"I hope so," she whispered. "I guess I'll see you later on tonight," she said pulling away.

"We can do a little housecleaning."

"I'll leave you to your patients then," she said with a watery smile, leaving his office.

As he watched the door shut, he picked up his phone and dialed ext. 9665.

"Hello? Yes, I've got some trash that needs to be picked up as soon as possible."

House's watch read 4:53. The day had passed at a snail's pace. With no new case he was forced to catch up on his charts and do time at the clinic. He had remained in a miserable mood all day, replaying the conversation in the elevator over and over again in his mind. She was right. Everything Juliana had said was dead on and it pissed him off that it was. House also couldn't stop thinking about Cuddy and the hurt expression he had left on her face that morning. She looked like he had struck her. He knew that she didn't deserve the anger he directed toward her, especially since she was the last person he felt any real connection with now that Wilson had disowned him.

He stood outside the glass doors, looking into Cuddy's office and watching her shuffle papers, engrossed in the work she was doing. He took a deep breath and entered, hoping she had already forgotten what he said to her.

"Ready to go get my bike out of impound?"

She didn't look up. "I have work to finish," she said cooly.

"Got to go now. I have to pick it up before six or I have to wait until tomorrow. And then it will cost you twice as much."

Cuddy put her pen down and sighed. "Fine. Let's get it over with." Standing up, she circled the desk and walked to the coat rack. She took off her lab coat and replaced it with her suit jacket.

He looked down and absentmindedly tapped his cane a couple of times. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She turned, freeing her hair from the back of her jacket. "What?"

"For earlier. You're not incompetent. I was angry, but I shouldn't have... Sorry," he said awkwardly. Apologizing wasn't something he did well or often.

She grabbed her purse from the rack. "Come on. Let's go get your bike. Then we can get a drink, but only one. I don't want to have to carry you again."

"Great. There's this new bar near by apartment. Expensive cocktails, lousy beer-- you'd love it."

"I was thinking we'd just go back to the pub," she said with a grin as they walked to the elevators.

He frowned, "We're not going back there."

"Why not?"

"They had my bike towed! Plus, the bartender is an idiot. What kind of man doesn't like Guinness?"

"I liked him."

"Of course you liked him, you mooned over him all night. And with that low-cut top, fuck-me pumps and the look of total desperation in your eyes, I don't want you to do anything you would regret in the morning."

She laughed. Low, tempting, breathy. He smiled, knowing he was forgiven.