A/N: Thanks so much for the great reviews! Sorry this update took so long. School is super busy right now! I wanted to make sure I took time to write this so that it did the entire story justice and didn't rush just for the sake of getting it posted. For those of you wondering, this is not a House/Wilson fic or a Wilson/Cuddy fic. I am considering writing a Wilson/Cuddy eventually just because House is being such a jerk to her, LOL.

House trudged through the snow, which was even more difficult for him than it would be for someone without a limp. His leg ached from the cold. He reached into his pocket and retrieved an orange pill bottle. He expertly popped the lid off the bottle, titled his head back, and tossed a Vicodin down his throat.

"Going public, are we?" House didn't even pause for the voice behind him. He knew Wilson would catch up eventually.

"Yeah, we thought it was time we let the world know about our love." House replied gruffly. He slipped the pill bottle back into his coat. There was no point in hiding it anymore. This was just a dream, which meant he would wake up eventually. "We thought about running off to Vegas but apparently there are laws against our kind of love. Hypocrites."

"I've known for weeks, House", Wilson said glumly.

"I'm not surprised. You're like a bloodhound at Warden Cuddy's hip. If you're a really good boy she might let you out of your cage. There has to be some desperate bitch in heat around here. And by desperate bitch in heat I mean -" They were about ten feet from the hospital doors when House felt Wilson's hand on his shoulder. He dropped the metaphor and turned to face him.

"House, you almost died because of this. Why won't you stop? Let me take you back to Mayfield." Wilson gave him a pleading look. House averted his eyes to the snow.

"Why should I stop?"

Wilson stared at him dumbfounded. "Were you not present the day that they talked about drug overdose in med school?"

"Seriously. There's no reason for me to stop." House dragged his toe across the wet ground. "None of this is real."

Wilson's brow furrowed. "None of this is real as in the Easter bunny or as in the medical minds who determine what drugs will kill you?"

"Big floppy ears and a basket with eggs the size of Cuddy's fun bags." House gave a slight smirk at his own cleverness. "I'm saying that none of this is real. I'm dreaming."

Wilson made an exasperated sigh. "What logic could you have possibly based that on? The fact that I'm standing here having a conversation with you in twenty degree weather?"

"I have my reasons." House turned and limped towards the doors.

"House!"

He thought it would be wrong to tell Wilson that Amber was walking each stride with them.

Despite the music pouring out of his piano, he couldn't drown out the sound of her voice. The little spurts of reality that he called upon were no longer what he wanted. Her scent, her kiss, her touch; none of these were the memories coming to mind. All he could hear was her rejection. The disappointment in her voice was as clear as day.

He knew that there was no truth to this life. The images of he and Cuddy burned too brightly in his mind to be fiction.

"So, you've decided not to believe any of this?" Amber shared the bench with him. She dragged her fingers across the piano keys lazily. "Have you figured out how to wake up?"

"Yes."

"And?"

The corner of his mouth turned upward. Almost a smile. "You already know."

"It's not going to work like you think it will." Amber stood up from the piano and crossed the room. She turned and stared out the window.

"You don't know that. You're just a delusion." He tickled the keys. High pitched music filled the air. He knew how to get rid of Amber. He knew how to return to his real life and get Cuddy back. "Why is it that when I'm hallucinating it's always you? Why not Kutner or Marilyn Monroe?"

Amber turned away from the window and gave him a dark smile. She looked like the cat that ate the canary – feather sticking out of her teeth and all. "If this is a dream then why are you seeing me? Wouldn't you be pain free, drug free, and with Cuddy?"

"Haven't you ever had a nightmare?" House reached for the decanter and poured himself a drink.

"Delusions don't have nightmares," Amber quipped. "You see me because I am most like you. You're brain wouldn't conjure up someone like Kutner to act as your subconscious. He was weak. Couldn't handle the pain. That's why he's dead."

He took a sip of his drink. "Cuddy thinks I'm weak. She says I run away from pain."

"Cuddy is an idiot. You've found a way to live with pain, not die from it. Your method keeps you happy, which keeps Cuddy happy."

House snorted. "If you were a delusion worth having you'd know I'm not happy. I'm miserable. I need Cuddy…but I want Vicodin." House poured another glass. "Vicodin can't love me, but it doesn't judge me either."

A loud knock rang across the room. "House! Open the door." It was Cuddy. He pushed the bench away from the piano and limped across the wood floor. She looked like she had come straight from the hospital, dressed in a black, high waisted pencil skirt and a cornflower blue blouse.

"You're still on Vicodin."

"You're still in a fake relationship," House said sarcastically. Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Oh, I thought we were playing that game 'State the Obvious'."

"Why are you still doing drugs?"

"How did you find out? Did Lucas tell you?" House scanned Cuddy's confused expression.

She attempted a quick recovery, letting a blank look fall across her features. "I'm not an idiot. I can tell."

"No, Lucas didn't tell you. Then Wilson must have. Interesting."

"It's interesting that your best friend wanted your boss to know that you're on drugs while practicing medicine?" Cuddy asked indignantly.

"It's interesting that your fiancée knew and you had to hear it from Wilson. Means he wanted you to find out the hard way, ruining any chance I had with you." House turned from the door and limped back to the piano to pour another drink.

Cuddy laughed incredulously and closed the door behind her. "What chance? We're getting married. House, you need to get treatment. Wilson told me what you said…" Cuddy let unspoken words hang in the air. Finally, she asked "You don't think this is real? That we're standing here having an actual conversation?"

He took a swig of his drink. "I don't."

Cuddy took a tentative step forward. House admired the way her black hair shone against her dark complexion. Most of the time she was the intelligent, confident, beautiful dean of medicine he had come to love. Now she stood before him looking like a stray puppy, unsure of whether she should follow him home or not.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Like any other theory, I have to test it."

"This isn't a case or a puzzle, House. This is real life!"

"So says the figment of my imagination."

Cuddy sighed impatiently. "This is real. This…is…your…life! You're a drug addict who can't find happiness in anything you do. The only fulfillment you get is from solving the mysteries of modern medicine. You're not dreaming, you're just high."

"Whoa, harsh, duuude. The real Cuddy wouldn't be so mean."

Cuddy rolled her eyes impatiently. "You know that's not true. House, you can't treat this like a diagnosis. There is no test for this."

She was standing so close to him now that he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. Her lips were full and slightly parted. Her big blue eyes landed on his. House breathed in sharply. The wonderful, familiar feeling came flooding back to him. Without conscious thought he leaned forward, crushing his body against hers. Their lips met, and his stomach dropped. He felt like he was riding a rollercoaster, the long plummet down terrifying and thrilling. Cuddy pressed herself tight against him. The sensation of her tongue melting with his sent a shock to his nervous system.

He pushed her backwards and they hit the wall with a hard thump. Cuddy's hands ran through his hair and down his back. Her touch provoked a wonderful feeling. House paused only to shrug off his gray and white Fender T and began prying at the buttons on her top. Cuddy's blouse fell to the floor. His blue eyes traveled up her stomach, over her black bra, and to her face. Their eyes met, and he could feel a burning sensation deep within. His ears buzzed, his vision blurred slightly.

A noise suddenly caught his attention. It seemed to becoming from somewhere distant. Maybe out in the street? He tried to ignore it.

"N…no…"

In an instant, the burning sensation was extinguished. He finally identified the noise. The distant sound was Cuddy protesting.

"No, House… can't. I'm engaged to Lucas." Her eyes dropped to the floor. She looked ashamed. It was selfish, but he wanted her to be ashamed for refusing him – not for nearly cheating on her soon-to-be husband.

"You can't tell me that you feel nothing…that this was nothing. Lisa?"

At the sound of her name, her eyes snapped to his. She nodded resolutely. "There is no 'us'. I'm sorry." Cuddy reached down, scooping her wrinkled blouse off of the floor. He watched as she buttoned it back up and turned towards the door. When she got there, he made one last, desperate attempt.

"Don't go. I love you."

Time stood still. It seemed an eternity before she answered, "I know." Cuddy pulled the door open and left him standing in the middle of the room. He was alone – except for Amber.

Six hours after the sound of the door shutting behind Cuddy, House sought comfort from the cool bathroom tile once more. He was drunk and more than sufficiently stoned. Cuddy's rejection led him to one conclusion: now was the time to do it. He had to wake up from this nightmare and find happiness once more.

"You think now is the best time to make this decision?" Amber was standing over him, holding a bottle of Vicodin in her hand. "Listen to me, House – I'm the rational part of your brain."

He lifted his head off the floor for a brief second, grunted, and laid it back down. "I know how to fix this." House reached his hand up towards her. Amber continued to stare down at him. "Listen, Cut throat Bitch, you didn't give a damn about me when you were alive, so why do you care as a delusion? It's not like you're some female version of Wilson. That's what I have Cameron for."

"I don't care. I'm just the part of you that knows better. It's simple logic."

House made a tsking noise. "Since when have I listened to rationality? Hand me the Vicodin!"

Amber crouched down, coming nose to nose with him. "No. This won't work."

"Well there's the alternative…I got rid of you last time by getting clean." He waited for Amber to object and force the bottle into his hand, as she had done before. Instead, she just smirked.

"So you think I'm a drug-induced hallucination instead of a dream?"

"At this point, I don't care." House reached out and snatched the bottle from her hand. He fumbled with the lid, his senses severely dulled by the opioids. His breath came in shallow waves. He peered into the bottle, estimating how many pills were left. Then, he threw his head back, tipping the pills into his mouth. Bitterness greeted his tongue but he chewed through the taste. He swallowed jagged shards of the tablets and waited.

Sunshine poured through the window, giving the appearance of a happy day. The snow outside was finally melting, leaving the streets full of dirty slush. Wilson stood at the foot of the bed, staring as his closest friend laid there unresponsive. The monitors beeped, machines whirred, and pink clad nurses wandered wordlessly in and out of the room. No one really knew what to say to James Wilson.

House had been lying in the bed for three weeks, once again due to a drug-induced coma. When he didn't show up at Princeton Plainsboro for work the next day or answer any calls, Wilson went over to his house immediately. It was a miracle that he was still alive. He had been lying there for hours, barely accumulating enough oxygen to fuel his brain.

The door to the room slid open and Wilson turned to see Cuddy enter the room. She had dark circles under her eyes, and a pale, gaunt appearance. Without a word to Wilson, she immediately began assessing House for any signs of consciousness.

Wilson had to look away. He knew it was a lost cause. He had already lost Amber too soon; there was no way that the universe would allow House to come back to them. Still, Cuddy hoped. "Anything?" she asked. He shook his head.

"You're going to have to make the decision soon, you know. He made you his healthcare proxy," Wilson said bitterly.

Cuddy gave him a hard look. "I'm not giving up. He made me his proxy because he knew I would fight for him."

"No, he made you his proxy because he trusted you to make the best decision. You think he would want to just lay here, hooked up to machines?"

Cuddy shrugged. She didn't really know what House would want anymore. Sure, he made some risky, stupid decisions before, but she never expected something like this. It was difficult for her to stomach the hospital without him coming into her office and harassing her on a daily basis. There was no one left to challenge her, no one who would stand up to her when she was wrong. Cuddy had broken it off with Lucas a week ago. She was forced to accept the fact that she would never have been able to love Lucas like she loved House.

"Cuddy," Wilson interrupted her thoughts. "If you won't make the decision, then I will."

"Are you going to take me to court? Organize a meeting with the ethics committee?"

Wilson sighed. "If that's what it takes." He took a final look at House, steeled his face, and left the room.

Cuddy turned back to House and her mouth dropped open. His hand clenched and unclenched. A small smile played across his lips. He looked…content. She smiled, tears forming in her eyes. She reached out and stroked his hand. He grunted and then his hand closed around hers.

House rolled over to find a beautiful woman next to him. Her dark, curly hair smelled like Pantene. She opened her eyes, a smile quickly forming on her face. He smiled back, reveling in the warmth radiating from her body.

Cuddy reached out, stroking his face with her left hand. He kissed the back of her hand, her palm, and then each of her fingers. The diamond solitaire sparkled in the sunlight flowing through the curtains. He could clearly remember the day of their wedding, how her face lit up as she walked down the aisle toward him; the way her mother stared ahead unhappily; the whispers of Foreman,Masters, and Taub taking bets on how long it would last.

He knew that this had to be a dream…and he was just fine with that. Reality was for self-assured losers anyway.

THE END

A/N: I didn't feel it was realistic to pair them together in real life, because House is so maladjusted and Cuddy needs a stable man in her life. Still, l wanted House to get Cuddy. His perception of reality is so warped, it just made sense to let them be together in a world all their own. I hope you enjoyed and I didn't let too many people down! Thanks for reading