A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews guys! AS always, I love to know what you think...and also thank you for your patience...this has been a busy week...

Remember December

Chapter 12

House peeked his head inside Cuddy's office door. "You beeped?"

Cuddy glanced up from the pile of mail she was going through on her desk, and waved him in. She was on the phone and grinning from ear to ear. Once she hung up she pushed the mail aside and lifted her legs up to rest them on the corner of her desk. House felt an involuntary flutter in his abdomen seeing her like that. Confident, sexy. Happy. He let out a breath and leaned back against her couch.

"What ever happened to that desk I gave you before I left Michigan? Remember?"

Cuddy nodded. "This job already came with a desk."

"So, the other one what, went in the wood chipper?"

She chuckled a little that he even thought to ask her about it. "No," she said. "It's at my mother's house."

House grunted, no longer interested, "What were you grinning about?" He asked her.

"Good news," she said. "My grant for the free walk-in clinic was just approved."

House frowned. "Who's gonna work in a free clinic?"

"Every doctor at this hospital is committed to two hours a week," she said. "That includes you."

He didn't even try to hide the absurdity of the notion that he would be wiping runny noses and itchy crotches for two hours a week. He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Gosh you know I'd love to if I wasn't so damn busy. And since when are we giving away health care for free? Aren't you always complaining about how expensive—"

Cuddy cut him off. "How are your interviews going?"

"Yeah. About that—"

"House you've been here for over a month. You haven't hired a team; you haven't taken a case, or even looked at a single file. What is it that I hired you for again?"

"None of the candidates I've looked at have the specific qualifications that I'm looking for, so I'm just going to have to…" House trailed off as Cuddy picked a dark blue file from the pile on her desk and dropped it in front of him. "What's this?"

"You're chance to prove your worth," she said with the most charming smile he think he had ever seen. House flipped open the file and glanced over the admittance form and test results.

"Hmm, that's weird," he mumbled. Cuddy's assistant tapped on the door and Cuddy gestured to her that she was coming, then stood up and slipped on her lab coat. She noted with distain that yet again, House was not wearing his. When she complained about it to Wilson on the phone a couple weeks before, his sage advice was, pick your battles Cuddy.

House stood up and followed her out the door and down the hall toward the elevator. "Listen to this," he said following her onto the elevator. "Patient went into hypervolemic shock from coughing up blood, but ER tests couldn't find the source of the blood in her lungs or her stomach."

"House," Cuddy pulled his attention away from the file, as the elevator doors opened and she got off, "I have this whole big hospital to run, I have a meeting with the board in five minutes and before that I have to check on a patient…"

"You still have patients?"

"I don't have time to be your Girl Friday. Figure this one out on your own and then hire at team." She spun away from him and into the patient's room before he could get another word in. House frowned and looked around the corridor. He saw a young med student listening to the attending he was shadowing. House limped up to him and interrupted the older man in the middle of a sentence.

"Hey," he said to the med student. "Dr. Cuddy wants you to get a history on this patient for me."

Two years later....

House leaned down and pressed his weight on his leg. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A part of him had hoped that this pain would dull or become more tolerable over time. He had hoped that it wouldn't rule his life the way it did. In truth the pain wasn't worse over all then it was two years ago. He had days and weeks that were worse than others but if he were to be honest with himself, despite his promise to Cuddy to keep the drugs under control, he had been taking more and more lately. The bad days were very very bad, enough to scare him into downing a dangerous number of pills at a time if it kept the pain away.

He also didn't want Cuddy to know when it got bad. Even after all the time that had passed, she took his pain personally, and he took her guilt for pity. Neither of them wanted to deal with that.

House's patient stirred beside him, and he glanced up at her. "What are you doing here?" She asked him. Her voice was dry and teeming with resentment.

House clenched his jaw slightly. "I'm sorry about your husband, but—"

"Go to hell." Her name was Roslyn Banks. She had come to House a week earlier about her husband who had been having unexplained seizures. He was on anti-convulsants but the seizures wouldn't stop. House didn't want the case. He told her that it was probably an abnormal presentation of epilepsy that his other doctors missed and that she should to take him to a neurologist and get a CT scan of his brain. A few days ago he went into cardiac arrest and died in the emergency room.

But the weird part was that when the ER doctors told her that he had died, Roslyn collapsed and started seizing. Now House was interested. But now she wasn't.

"Fine," he said, pushing himself out of the chair next to her bed. "Keep ignoring me, keep refusing to answer my questions, and you'll end up in cold storage right next to him." Roslyn turned her head away from House and squeezed her eyes closed. "Maybe that's what you want." When House didn't get an answer her shook his head and started out the door.

"You don't get it do you!" Roslyn shouted at him, and he turned back to face her. "He was the only thing that mattered to me. I don't work without him."

House leaned heavy on his cane. "I know you think that now—"

"No! Don't try to tell me that I'll be fine, that I'll move on. You could have saved him but you…" Her voice trailed off and tears flooded over. House shifted uncomfortably in front of her. He could of course test her, diagnose her, and treat her without talking to her; it would just take longer that way. "You're not married are you?" She asked him.

House shook his head. "No," he said. Great, now she was going to try to connect with him.

"No girlfriend?"

"No, no one," he said. "So, I'm not going to empathize with you. I need to order an autopsy on your husband. I'll figure out what killed him, that's obviously the same thing that's killing you. If we can treat it we will; if not, then you'll get your wish."

"Have you ever been in love?"

House rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said. "I had someone and she left me. And no, I don't miss her or feel like a part of me is missing," he glanced briefly down at his leg. "Except the part of me that actually is missing." It might be easier to just let her die, he thought.

"You've been able to move on, you've found someone else?" Roslyn crossed her arms in front of her. "It's never quite so easy," she said.

House let out an annoyed sigh. "It's complicated."

"That's a bunch of bull. It's very simple. If you love someone either you always will, or you never did. No matter how hard you try you can't replace that." Her eyes had welled up again, and she pulled her blanket tight around her.

House looked away from her. "The autopsy?"

"I don't care what you do." She said between choked sobs.

Cuddy tapped on House's office door before pushing it open. He was sitting at his desk, his arms crossed in defiance. Roslyn had stirred up old feelings that he had been struggling for two years to repress. About Stacy, about her leaving. The sick feeling that she was the one, and now that she was gone and he was damaged… It never bothered House to be alone, but he never truly thought that he would be forever.

He glanced up at Cuddy, who leaned against his desk with a folder in her hand. She had a concerned bend to her mouth. House let his eyes travel over her shoulders and chest and down to her hips which disappeared behind the edge of his desk.

"Good morning Dr. Cuddy," he said in a mock cheerful voice. "Love that shirt, makes you look particularly lickable today."

Cuddy ignored his barbs as she always did. She knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of her, and shooting back would just encourage him. She dropped the file on his desk; it was Anthony Banks' autopsy results.

"Why did they send these to you?" House said, picking up the file.

"The M.E. has orders to notify me of any results where foul play is suspected," she leaned against the side of his desk. "Looks like your patient tried to poison her husband." House narrowed his eyes and skimmed the report. He opened Roslyn's file and compared the two.

"She didn't try to kill him," House closed the file and stood up grabbing his cane, "but she is a big fat liar."

He left his office and headed straight for Roslyn's room. He slid the door closed behind him, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have good news, and bad news," he said. "The good news is that I know what's wrong with you and I can treat it."

"What's the bad news?" She said rubbing her eyes. She had been sleeping when he walked in.

House took in a defiant breath and narrowed his eyes. "The love of your life hated your guts," he said. "He tried to kill you and he tried to kill himself. Actually he succeeded at that last part."

Roslyn swallowed and teared up again. "He loved me," she said.

"Ah, but you didn't love him, did you?" She looked away from him and didn't answer. "You're pregnant," House said it like he was confusing her of a crime. "You told your husband about it, hoping to pass the kid off as his, but he knew something you didn't." Roslyn looked back over in his direction. "He was sterile." House said.

House limped into Cuddy's office and dropped into a chair across from her. He tapped his cane loudly against the desk while he waited for her to get off the phone. Roslyn Banks had been released the day before after House fought with Cuddy to let him treat her with a cardioversion to get her heart rhythm back to normal. House was angry at the woman for dredging up his feelings for Stacy, but something she said stuck with him. Either you always will, or you never did.

House decided it was time for him to get over his own self-pity and move forward. And by move forward, of course he meant look back. "So, you remember twenty years ago when I promised to take you out on a proper date, but we broke up before we ever got to that?" He asked as Cuddy said goodbye to whomever she had been schmoozing on the phone.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes, and dropped the phone down in the receiver. "Have you filed your billing for this month yet?"

"I am way over due. On the date I mean. Let's go out to eat tonight."

"They were due last week." She said, ignoring him.

"I was going to get my team to file them, but—"

"But since you've been here for almost two years and you have yet to hire a team…"

"Right. So I was thinking that Hibachi place—"

"House."

"What?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"Fine. Take me out to dinner, and I will do my billing."

"What? No. Next thing you know you'll be trying to trade sexual favors for doing clinic hours."

House raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. "I actually had not thought of that, but—"She glared at him and he shrugged, "Nah, never mind. You're good but you're not that good."

"How about you do your job, and then in a completely unrelated conversation, outside of work, maybe I will consider the possibility of perhaps having dinner with you."

House smiled, and stood up to leave, turning around to Cuddy's assistant as he closed her office door, and leaned down to whisper to her, "She wants me so bad."

Later that afternoon, House again appeared at Cuddy's door. He handed her a green file. "Did my billing boss."

Cuddy cautiously picked up the file and opened it. "This is billing for one patient," she said, and House shrugged.

"It's the thought that counts."

"No," she corrected. "Actually, it's the—"

House cut her off. "So, is there anywhere in particular that you'd want to go tomorrow, or would you rather be surprised?"

Cuddy closed the file and dropped it into a pile of identical green folders stacked on the floor next to her desk. "What are you talking about?"

"You said if I did my billing you'd have dinner with me."

"No, I said do your billing and maybe we could talk about it."

"Let's talk about it then," he said sitting down and stretching his legs out in front of him.

"I can't go out with you. I have plans already and I just think it would be a really awful idea." Cuddy crossed her arms in front of her, signaling that was the end of the discussion.

"Plans with who?" he asked, his voice raising nearly into squeaky range for a brief second.

"His name is Richard. He's a podiatrist."

House raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "A foot guy?" He smiled. "Is it...like a fetish?'

"He's a nice guy," she said, feigning offense.

"A nice guy?" House laughed. "I think we both know that's not your type."

Cuddy leaned forward in her chair and folded her arms on her desk. "My type has changed a lot since college, House. I'm your boss, you're my employee. I'm not gonna date you, now drop it."

But House was no longer listening to her. He was focused somewhere off to her side staring out the window. "I must destroy this…Richard." He pushed himself out of her chair and left the office, leaving Cuddy alone and grinning in spite of herself.

Cuddy glanced around the lobby of the theater, looking for Richard who had gone to get them drinks when she excused herself to the ladies room. It felt good to be out, she thought, to get dressed up and to be admired. Even if his company was somewhat lacking, which Cuddy also decided, she only thought because she had gotten used to constant conflict, and so she didn't know what to do with a man who was all pleasantries and flattery. She smiled when she felt a firm hand reach the small of her back.

She turned and found House standing behind her. "The symphony?Really? Are you sure he isn't gay?" Cuddy's mouth dropped slightly at the tux he wore and the winkled boyish smile on his face. "House!" she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a small alcove near the front doors. "What are you doing?"

"Are you really surprised to see me here?" He asked her. "That's cute. And you look gorgeous by the way, you should get dolled up more often, because…" he followed with a low whistle that gave her a momentary flutter in her stomach, but she quickly shook it off.

"Go home! Now." She ordered and started to walk away from him, but he caught her arm.

"You haven't been out on a date in over a year," he said. "Are you doing this now, just because I asked you out?"

"I think it is slightly more plausible that I haven't been out on a date in so long because I'm afraid you'd do to this guy what you did to the last one."

House smiled. "Hey, it's not my fault that guy couldn't hold his liquor." Cuddy opened her mouth to chastise him again but caught site of Richard walking toward them with a glass of red wine in each hand.

"Oh god," she said. She took a conscious step toward Richard and away from House, taking a glass from him and smiling sweetly. "Richard, this is Dr. Greg House. He works for me, and we just ran into each other…" she looked up at House, silently pleading with him to be nice. House took the wine glass out of her hand and took a sip himself, ignoring Richard's outstretched hands. He handed the glass back to Cuddy and smiled up at Richard.

"Yeah, my date's around her somewhere," he said. "First date. Gotta love the symphony; panty-peeler, am I right?" He nudged Richards arm and glanced over at Cuddy who tossed back the rest of her wine. Richard produced an uncomfortable simile, before his cell phone buzzed and he looked down at the caller.

"I'm so sorry Lisa, I need to take this. It's about a patient." He stepped out into the foyer, and House grinned at Cuddy.

"Foot emergency."

Cuddy shook her head. "Can you please just go?"

"And miss the symphony?"

"House," her eyes were pleading with him again, and he realized that he had genuinely upset her. He nodded slowly.

"Okay, Cuddy." He brushed her sleek hair off her bare shoulder, then stepped back and headed toward the door. Cuddy let out a relived sigh when he walked through the lobby doors and left the building. She looked around for the bar and went to get herself another glass of wine.

House stepped into the cold and met Richard on his way back into the building. "Dr. House, you're leaving?"

House nodded. "I've got an emergency with a patient," he said. "I'm sure you know what that's like." Richard nodded, and House smiled. He imagined Cuddy standing inside alone and disappointed and he almost walked away. But then he imagined her in bed with this guy running his tongue over her nipples, and House clenched his jaw. "You know Cuddy is a great woman."

Richard nodded again. "She certainly is. And very attractive."

"Oh sure, yeah. Well you know she's not really my type."

"No?"

"No, I mean I guess she's pretty enough, but I'm just not into all that bizarre sexual stuff she likes."

"Bizarre?" House nodded. "Like how?"

"Well I mean I don't know firsthand but this oncologist friend of mine told me that when they were dating Cuddy actually asked him to pee on her, while they were…well you know." Richard's face twisted into sickly contempt, and House cheered inside. "I mean everyone is entitled to their own fantasies I suppose. And you know how those Scientologists are…"

Cuddy closed the door to her house half an hour later. Richard had come back inside and made his apologies but told her that he had an issue with a patient he had to take care of. The man could not get away from her fast enough and Cuddy wanted to throttle House.

As it turned out, she wouldn't have to wait long before she got her chance. She listened to the obnoxious banging of his cane against her door as she changed out of her evening gown and into a blue silk nightgown that reached her calves. She pulled a robe around her shoulders and went to answer the door.

When she opened it, House was standing there still wearing the tux, though he had chucked the jacket and tie, and untucked the crisp white shirt. "I just can't believe you."

"What? Did something happen to Richard?" He asked her, innocent as could be. Cuddy grabbed his arm and yanked hard causing him to stumble into the house. He leaned on her to keep from falling down but she quickly pushed him off.

"Yes, you happened to Richard!"

"Oh come on Cuddy, that guy was a tool."

"That's not your call to make House!" She was still yelling, and House was amused at how calm and collected she managed to stay no matter how obstinate he was at work, but she couldn't manage to keep it together now.

"Cuddy, I just want to talk."

"About?"

"Us."

"House, no."

"Why not? And don't say because we work together, because I know that's not the reason."

Cuddy crossed her arms over her chest as House moved past her and walked into her living room making himself comfortable on her couch. "That most certainly is one reason."

"What's another one?"

Now she dropped her arms and looked around the room annoyed that she had nowhere to sit unless it was right next to him. She decided then that she would go and buy a chair tomorrow. He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn't answer right away.

"I think you want to start dating me because you're trying to get over Stacy and because we have history and it's convenient. Not because you have any real feelings for me."

Her honest answer shook him momentarily. "That's not true," he said. "It's not completely true," he finally conceded.

"Which part?" She asked leaning against the armrest.

"I am trying to move on, and have a life," he admitted. "But I do care about you, I think you know that. And we almost had something really great once." He looked past her suddenly a little uncomfortable, and wondering how wise it was of him to come here tonight, "and I wondered if we could get some of that back."

Cuddy knew him well enough to know that what he wasn't saying was more telling than anything that could ever come out of his mouth. "And Stacy?"

House shook his head. "This has nothing to do with Stacy. She left two years ago; I think I've had adequate time to put it behind me."

Cuddy knew better. She knew that it hurt him still to think of her; she knew it hurt him to even be having this conversation about her. And she also knew that when House left Michigan, it took her a hell of a lot longer than two years to get over him. "And if she ever came back?"

"I wouldn't care," he said, though neither of them bought the lie. "It doesn't matter because the only way she'd ever come near me again was if she was dying and need me to cure her."

House still wasn't looking at her but Cuddy watched his chest rise and fall, and knew it was hard for him to even be here, making himself vulnerable like this. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he finally did look up at her. "I think it would be a mistake," she said, though her voice told him that she was ready to give up this fight.

"It might be," he said. But by that time his hand and already found its way to her thigh and up the curved shape of her ass leaning against the couch. He pulled her down next to him where she was more accessible, and pulled the sting on her robe free and pushed it aside.

"We don't bring this to work," she said. House nodded in agreement. His mouth was already pressing wet kisses on her neck and she shivered in his arms.

He looked up and grinned. "Cold?"

"Yes," she lied. She leaned forward and caught his lips, as one arm went around her, and the other felt for the bottom of her nightgown and pushed it up over her matching silk panties. Cuddy groped for his shirt and pulled it over his shoulders. She kissed his chest and neck, and pulled his earlobe between her teeth. House hissed an almost painful moan as his arousal and need for her clouded his mind. They both knew this was nuts. There was no reason for them to think it could work. But House realized that he had not felt this good, this alive since the infarction, before that even. He ran his thumb over the delicate fabric and Cuddy cried out as the pressure hit her square and resonate. She glanced up and realized that the window facing the street was wide open.

"Let's go to bed," she said. House nodded and stood up, but his leg screamed in protest and he winced at the pain. Cuddy glanced down at his leg and took a hold of his arm.

"Don't," he said. He didn't shake her off, but he moved her hand off his arm. "Don't worry about it, don't even look at it okay." He swallowed hard. He didn't like admitting to her that he was self conscious about the gaping scar on his leg, or about how it was harder for him now to move like he could before. If she was more careful with him now, he's know why and he didn't want that.

She nodded. "It doesn't matter House." She moved her hand down and he tensed when she rested it on his thigh, and traced the shape of the scar through his slacks. "It doesn't matter." She caught his eyes and he nodded. It was clear to him that his leg didn't matter to her. Neither did his attitude or his inclination to be a jerk, or his drug habit, or the fact that he still had not taken her out to a nice dinner. She didn't say it, but it was right there in her eyes. She loved him, and she would continue to love him, no matter what he did.

As House took her full force in his arms and they stumbled back into her bedroom, it occurred to him, that this right here, her unconditional and unwavering devotion to him, would be both the reason he would never be able to let her go, and the reason he would ultimately push her away.