Conclusion A Week Later

As was the case with most public relations fiascos, the administrators wanted to put the Tritter situation to bed as soon as possible.

Wilkins and Cuddy collaborated with lightning fast speed to end the ongoing crisis. After she had acquired written accounts from House, Wilson and the Ducklings, she handed them over to the chief. (Of course, she held onto copies of these documents for her records.)

The AMA returned medical privileges to Wilson and the Ducklings immediately. In addition, their accounts were unfrozen.

Wilson and House received their vehicles back—with the impound fees waived.

Due to the incident, Internal Affairs found a pattern of such behavior in Tritter's file. Two days after his conversation with Cuddy, he was under arrest on charges of brutality among other charges.

While all seemed well with the majority of the world, House didn't get off Scott clean however. Due to his initial retaliation against Tritter and the stash, the Board wanted to throw the book at him. Due to Cuddy's and Wilson's respective interventions (not to mention how House had somehow managed to restrain himself from further physical confrontations with the bully), they suspended the diagnostician for a month without pay.

And with that, the books were closed on the case….at least officially.

House's Apartment

House played morosely, channeling his moods through the ebony and ivory keys under his fingertips. With each note, he allowed small crumbs of his indignation to crumble away. Having been run through the Review Board's gauntlet countless times before, he knew that they would want his hide. It wasn't my fault that Tritter is an asshole. He got up and checked on Steve McQueen to make sure his companion was well fed and happy.

The latter ran on his cage's wheel, silently feeling content to do so.

At least Steve knows the deal. He pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the top. "Figures that we'd have to pay for dealing with that jerk." He gulped down half of the bottle's contents before releasing a loud belch. "State of the world. It sucks," he groused to nobody in particular.

He heard a knock at the door.

"Crap! Go away!" he bellowed.

The knocking grew louder and more persistent.

"Damn it," he hissed, laboring across the room and ignoring the white fire shooting through his hip in the process. He threw open the door to find Cuddy standing there in her white blouse and a black miniskirt. "Here to gloat?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, preferring not to respond to that comment. "Actually, I was here to see how you're doing."

"Goodie. Might as well come in," he advised, allowing the corners of his mouth to betray the barest glimpses of a smile.

"I come bearing gifts," she noted while bringing in a party sized pizza and a bottle of wine. "Besides it's been a week since we heard from you."

"I figured you'd enjoy the break. I'm playing for Steve in the meantime," he surmised while sitting down on the bench again. "Hope that's got meatball and sausage on it, Cuddy."

She grinned and opened the box, revealing the pie with the aforementioned meats, onions and peppers. "I think that's the way you like it. At least it was back in Ann Arbor."

"Good to see that eye for detail gets everything, Cuddy," he teased while sampling the goods. "Mmmm…Carmelina's."

"That mouth of yours never met an assessment it didn't like," she cracked while biting into a piece for herself. "Speaking of which, I wanted to give you one of my own."

"Oh great!" He turned to his roommate. "Steve, take notes! She's going to chew me out again!"

"Cut it out, House," she chided while sitting down beside him. "I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you."

He quirked an eyebrow; those words sounding foreign from her. "Funny. I could've sworn you were Cuddy—Evil Empress type. Same eyes. Same mouth. Same cleavage."

"She stayed back at the office tonight—at least that side of me did," she countered while kissing him. "Everyone misses you."

He smirked at her, urging her onward.

"All right." She rolled her eyes before conceding, "I miss you too. Want to help me with that?"

"Depends what you had in mind," he suggested.

She chuckled and grinned. "Maybe you could play some Brahms for me while we eat? Then…" Her eyes motioned to the bedroom door. "There's room for an encore."

He nodded, getting the full measure of her words. He took a draught from the wine glass she set down on the piano and shared another fruit-filled lip lock with her.

She cuddled against his left side.

Thus inspired, his fingers glided across the keys, making oh so sweet rhythms.

Maybe Tritter made his life Hell but he and Cuddy would have some measure of Heaven as payment.

That and no Clinic duty for a month made everything worthwhile…..

THE END