So, I got tired of the narrative style I've chosen for the previous chapters. I had to repeat 'You' at least a thousand times per chapter (and the chapters were really short 'til now). So, past tense! YAY!

And thanks for the reviews. I'll try to make the chapters a little longer, but please, take into consideration my amateurism. This one is a bit longer, and I think it turned out to be pretty decent. Tell me what you think, and thanks for your reviews.

Chapter IV

"Come on Cuddy, don't overreact! I just wanted to check how you were doing!" He really meant it, though the sarcastic tone he employed was intended to hide it.

She was visibly upset, her shaking hands gripping the wheel with perceptible unsteadiness. Her eyes were fixed on the road, and he could tell she was trying to stay focused. The snow had intensified over the last minutes, and the streets were glowing with its shimmering white light.

"I just don't understand what's wrong with you!" She was nearly shouting, her distress evident. "You make my life insufferable everyday, you ignore my orders, you ruin my almost non-existent dates…" Cuddy paused for a moment, breathless "And then you show up at the hospital, invading my personal life, saying you want to check on me?!"

He wasn't staring at her. Yes, fellows, even Gregory House, the snarky, uncaring doctor, could feel guilty sometimes. Truth be told, he hadn't meant to trouble her. In fact, showing up like that was his totally messed-up way to express affection. He was truly grateful towards her (though it would have taken indecent amounts of alcohol for him to admit it): she had taken care of him over the aftermath of the crash, and helped him rebuild his relationship with Wilson. She had saved him from going to jail. She had risked her job uncountable times, just for him. After the infarction, she was always there when he needed someone.

And yet he treated her horribly everyday. Maybe the crash and the deep brain stimulation had really affected his brain-probably his limbic system-but he felt utterly sorry.

"If you want to help me" she continued "Help me. If you don't, the walk away and stop annoying me. I'm not in the mood."

He remained silent, and she assumed he didn't want to help at all. His disregard irritated her a bit. She had been there for him. For once, he could swallow his stupid pride and do something for her.

"Cuddy…" He was whispering. A red light gave her the chance to pay full attention to his mumbled words. "I…want to help you."

Green light.

Cuddy stared at the road in disbelief. Had House just said he wanted to help her? She told herself she must have dreamed it. Maybe she was hallucinating.

Or maybe he did care.

"Cuddy" House spoke up "An answer would be great, you know."

She had now parked in front of his apartment, and was beginning to react to external stimulus.

He placed his hand, his long musician fingers, on her shoulder and squeezed it softly, and the shiver that ran down her spine awaked her at last.

"Do you mean it? Or you are just trying to get into my pants?" It wasn't like she would have rejected him, anyway… She slapped herself mentally.

His thin lips curved in a little smirk. His signature smirk.

"What kind of question is that?" He chuckled, and she smiled at him fondly "Oh, how can I resist you if you look at me like that?"

"Now get off my car. I have shopping to do. Or you new helping plan includes following me around like a lapdog?"

"Only if I can avoid clinic duty."

"That's so not going to happen. You still owe more than 4 years."

"But, mommy…"

He stepped out of the car hastily, almost slipping in the snow. He was only wearing a shirt, and he was shivering.

Slowly, he made his way towards his apartment, and after opening the door, he went straight for a hot bath.

Cuddy walked around the shopping mall, still confused about what had happened with House.

Did he really want to help her?

Having House by her side, she felt much more secure, as if a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders. It was stupid, and she knew it: he'll probably screw everything up, or behave like the jerk he was. A normal person would have called her crazy for relying so much on someone like House, whose temperament was completely unpredictable, and worse, unkind. Plus, he was practically unable to comfort people.

But she trusted him like she had never trust in any other person in the whole wide world, besides, perhaps, his brother. But they had grown apart, and she wasn't sure he knew all her faults and virtues as well as House did.

Because of one thing she was absolutely sure: nobody knew her as well as House.

He might have been a jerk, but he had kept the secret of her injections, he had opened her eyes when it came to donors and babies, he had risked his life to save his best friend's girlfriend. He failed, but he did his best to succeed.

And she liked him. She had meant to tell him, but words had failed her when the expected moment arrived. But he had probably deduced it, with his incredible ability to read her mind, as though she was transparent.

She focused her thoughts on her nephew, that tiny child she loved so much. There was plenty of time to sort out the whole House-being-practically-nice-situation.