Hi all. It's been a while. For those interested in the reasons why, I'll tell you that this chapter went through a LOT of changes before finally settling into what you are about to read. As a matter of fact, this whole story has gone through a huge metamophosis. What was originally going to be a light, frivolous, smut filled end cap to my trilogy has slowly morphed into a true resolution to a story arc that started in my head long ago.

If it seems as though the treasure hunt and all feels out of place, that is because there was a huge arc that involved pirate dreams, a parallel storyline and all kinds of high seas type adventure that ended up getting cut. I might leave that for another, more parodyesque story, because I really do like the arc I created for it, but it simply doesn't fit here any longer. The treasure hunt, therefore, might seem a bit arbitrary, but it has led me to a new and in all honesty far more important story to tell. So, I hope you like it.

-6-

House looked over at her for the fifth time that hour. He cautiously nudged her for the third time that night.

"What?" She mumbled, half asleep.

"Spasm," he said. Last time it had been a dream, the time before that he pretended he was in the mood to get frisky. Luckily she wasn't, and he was sent back to his side of the bed.

She turned away from him and tried to go back to sleep. She knew what he was up to. He wanted to go study the map in private. All evening he'd been pouring over the thing, one long arm wrapped around its perimeter to keep her from cheating off him. What he thought she could learn from watching him stare at a piece of paper was unknown, but he still made sure she didn't get the chance to try.

It had been a foolish thing to do, challenging him to a treasure hunt. But after the past couple days it was clear they both needed something to focus their attention on. With him off looking for buried treasure, she could make some calls to the hospital, find out what Wilson had been up to, schedule some meetings for when she returned and reassure herself that there wouldn't be a thousand fires that needed to be put out. Then she would find the treasure, claim her prize and shut him up once and for all.

House listened to her breathing. It was once again falling into a slow, steady rhythm. This time he waited, counting down the time by playing one of his favorite songs in his head. He waited two full minutes before checking on her again. He nudged her gently. No reaction. Carefully he slipped out of bed, leaving his cane behind, afraid it's gently padding against the floor would wake her and subject him to another lecture about chasing windmills and how she was going to win anyway, so he might as well get some sleep.

His bare feet slid softly across the floor like an ice skater floating across the ice, but a lot slower than any self respecting skater would ever go. When he reached the table he felt for the small flashlight he'd strategically left hours earlier and flipped it on. He shot a glance toward the bed, making sure the small beam of light hadn't woken her. She didn't move.

There had to be some trick to this map, some clue he'd over looked. Captain Morgan had long been his favorite Captain…or was that his favorite rum? Whatever it was, he felt that this Morgan fellow must have been a crafty man. You didn't live to a ripe old age in the wild Caribbean without knowing a thing or two about survival, and keeping secrets.

Clearly there was no X because there was some other clue that marked the spot. But what was it?

"Why are you always looking for zebras?" Wilson appeared out of no where, shaking his head slowly.

"Because horses are boring." It really wasn't a reasonable explanation, but Wilson was a figment of his imagination, so he was just going to have to deal with it.

"If you lived in Africa you would find zebras boring."

"When I move to Africa, I'll look for horses." House really wasn't in the mood for another 'visitation'.

"You should be looking for a simple explanation House. Stop making this more complicated than it is."

"I'm going to start looking for a new best friend if you don't leave my subconscious alone." House was sick of these unwelcome visits.

"You're the one who brought me here." Wilson kicked back and relaxed. "Clearly there's something on your mind."

"There is nothing on my mind." House snapped quietly, trying not to wake Cuddy.

"I'm on your mind." Wilson grinned. "I'm flattered, but I think your wife might get jealous."

"You are not on my mind!" House snapped.

"Who is not on your mind?" Cuddy mumbled from the bed.

"You, so go back to sleep."

House looked around him. Wilson was gone. "Well that was pointless." He shook his head and turned back toward the map. What was he missing?

He looked over at the bed. Lisa Cuddy was a lot of things. She was beautiful, she was sexy, she was strong, she was ambitious and she was even smart at times, but there was one thing she most certainly was not. She was not smarter than him. There was no way she had figured out the map before he could. But just in case, he focused all his attention on the old, yellowing paper laid out before him.

House faded in and out of consciousness, the map blurring and unblurring as his eyes grew heavy. Eventually his head landed with a thud. Fortunately he was too tired to have a head ache.

Cuddy woke up some hours later, having slept through the crash. She crept out of bed quietly as the sun just started to peek it's head up over the horizon. House was mumbling something in his sleep, clearly deep in some strange dream of his. Sometimes she was curious and wished she could pop into one of those dreams, to see just what went on in the subconscious of the great Gregory House, other times she was glad she didn't know.

Today she was too busy working on her own agenda to concern herself with the twisted fantasies of her husband. She grabbed her cell phone and headed out toward the beach.

House's body convulsed for a moment then fell quiet again.

Cuddy sat in the sand, staring out at the water. She had changed her mind about calling him three times already. Each time she chickened out before he could answer. There were a number of reasons she didn't want to make the call and only one, or two, reasons why she did.

She jumped when it started vibrating in her hand.

"Hello?" she said nervously.

"Either talk to me or stop calling." Damien sounded more amused than cross.

"Sorry." She blushed even though he couldn't see her.

"Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be doing unspeakable things to your husband?"

"I am." Cheating on House to win a bet was about as unspeakable as it got.

Damien looked at the phone before speaking again. "I'm sorry Lisa, love you though I do, I am not going to have an affair with you. Not while you're still on your honeymoon." He was teasing her, and he probably would have an affair with her, if he knew that's what she wanted. But it wasn't, so he resigned himself to the teasing.

"What do you know about the treasure of Captain Morgan?" She quickly glazed over the whole affair talk. Those were seriously dangerous waters.

Damien laughed a deep, hearty laugh. "He's found the map has he?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure Tess can fill you in on everything you ever wanted to know."

"Not quite everything." There was one question Quintessa had not been able to answer for them.

"Where is the treasure buried?" He spoke for her.

"You stole my question." She couldn't help but flirt with Damien. He was just one of those men who practically demanded it. "Did you find it?"

"Yes." He was playing coy.

"And? Where is it?"

"Where I found it," he teased.

She paused for a moment. "You didn't take it?"

"When you find it, you'll understand why."

"Damien!"

"What's this really about?" He knew her well enough to know that it wasn't about the treasure. It had to be about House, somehow.

"I made a bet with House, that I could find it first."

"And you thought I would help you?" He was flattered, and a little disappointed, but if it meant hearing her voice again…

"I know you will." She was embarrassed.

"Because you know I'd do anything for you."

"Just tell me where it is." She felt slightly guilty about using Damien like this, but he had told her he would do anything for her.

"Depends. What do you get if you win?" He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know, but he couldn't help but ask.

"House as my personal slave for one day." She fully intended to make him go through all his back files that he kept hidden in the fourth floor closet. She had a feeling he was expecting something naughtier, but hell, she could get him to do that sort of thing anytime.

"And he gets?" Damien knew he wasn't going to like this answer.

"The same."

"Well, that's all well and good for the two of you, but what's in it for me?"

"I'm not going to be your slave." She wanted that made perfectly clear.

"Oh, if only." That was a dream he was going to be having tonight.

"But you can have my undying gratitude." It was really all she had to offer him.

She waited while Damien mulled this over. "For that you only get a hint. Bring your map up to the house. Compare it to the one hanging in my library. You might find it very enlightening." He hung up before she could ask for more.

"Argh!" Cuddy huffily closed her mobile with a snap.

"DAMN!" At the same time, in the nearby Villa, House fell off his chair.

Cuddy came running in to check on him, but he was already halfway to his feet by then. "Fall off your chair?" She said, trying hard not to laugh.

He just glared at her. He noticed the phone. "Business call?"

"Not your business," she tried to sound casual.

"Call your boyfriend?"

She hesitated for a split second before going about her breakfast making business. Had he been listening?

"You did!" That seconds hesitation was enough for House's watchful eye. "You called…OH MY GOD!" It finally clicked. "You're cheating!"

"I am not!" She was turning bright red, so she turned and stuck her head in the fridge pretending to be looking for the milk.

"You called him to find out where the treasure is. That is cheating." House was practically jumping up and down. He knew it! He knew she couldn't figure this out faster than him. "You planned on cheating when you made the bet!"

"I don't remember there being a rule against cheating." She finally emerged from the fridge with all the ingredients for French Toast.

"It's an unspoken rule, Cuddy. It shouldn't need to be said." House was both quite proud of himself for not having been the first to cheat and quite disappointed that he hadn't thought of it first.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that he didn't tell me where it is." She started cracking eggs. House hated her French Toast. She never put enough egg in it. So he came over and pushed her out of the way. She hid a little smile as she stepped aside and let him cook. It was one of the few things he could make from scratch, and she found it sexy watching him bustle around the kitchen, fixing her meal.

"What did he tell you?" House realized he'd been tricked into cooking her breakfast, but he was too hungry to argue. Let her win this battle. He was going to win the war, despite her attempts to cheat.

She thought about telling him and she thought about not telling him. If she didn't tell him, and he found out later, he'd make her pay. Of course his idea of payment wouldn't be so bad, not for something like this. If she told him now, they could call the bet off and look for it together, of course then she'd never get him to do his bloody filing.

"He told you something, now tell me." He swatted her bottom with the spatula.

"Is the bet off?" She jumped a little as it snapped through her thin nightgown.

"Hell no!" House needed this challenge. It was the only thing distracting him from the nagging doubts that had been creeping into his mind ever since they arrived on the island. Hell, ever since he first proposed. They'd never really gone away, only been stifled by a lot of sex and her excitement at becoming his wife.

Now that the excitement was wearing down, and the sex…well, the sex was still frequent and phenomenal, but it wasn't enough to stop him from thinking, not between rounds anyhow.

"House, you're going to burn them." Cuddy snapped him out of the bad thoughts.

"What?" He flipped the toast over. "Well, if you won't tell me what you found out, then I'm not going to tell you what I found out."

"I didn't ask you to." She was being bratty now. She loved a challenge, and beating House was always a big challenge.

"Well good." The food was ready and House pushed a couple pieces on each of the plates Cuddy had set out then carried his over to the table outside. "That way, when I beat you, my victory will be all the more sweet."

Cuddy followed him, watching his shorts clad ass swishing back and forth. He had a surprisingly great ass for someone who preferred sitting around on it all day.

"After breakfast I'm going to go for a walk." She loved his French Toast. She would make it the way he did, but she much preferred making him do it, so she still pretended not to know how.

"I'll come." He didn't want to let her out of his sight. She knew something, and he was determined to know what it was.

"Great." She had to think of some way to get rid of him.

It took great patience, and a lot of stalling, but she waited him out. House always had to go to the bathroom not long after a meal. As soon as she saw him heading off she got up and rushed toward the map. She was spinning it into a tight cylinder when he came up behind her.

"What are you doing?" House leaned over her shoulder, startling her.

"I need to borrow this." Cuddy straightened up, determined to get out of this somehow.

"What? Who said you could use my map?"

"Who said it was your map?"

"Quintessa gave it to me." House tried to take it out of her hands but had underestimated the benefits of yoga.

"What's yours is mine." She tugged. "I'll bring it back in a few hours."

"Bring it back! Where are you going with it?" He pulled harder, yanking her body forward, but still unable to break her grip.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you." She smiled at him sweetly then gave a sudden yank that nearly toppled him over.

"Oh, it's like that is it?" House was fine with that. He was stronger than her. It was only a matter of time before he got her to let go.

He gave the map a strong, sharp tug and as anyone could have guessed, they both heard a loud tearing sound. Equally predictable was the fact that Cuddy dropped the map for fear of damaging it more, while House hung on to it in victory. "HA!" He spat triumphantly.

"House, that map is irreplaceable."

"Yes, so it's a good thing you let go of it before you destroyed it even more." House rolled it out to assess the damage.

"I destroyed it? If you hadn't tried to take it from me…"

"If you hadn't taken it from ME…"

"Not everything belongs to you House."

"No, but you do." He tried charming his way out of it, and it worked. A sweet kiss on the cheek and… "Don't…!"

He watched as Cuddy ran out of the Villa with the map. There was only one thing she could always beat him in, and that was a race. "Damn!"

Cuddy was panting by the time she reached the Richmond House. She had checked several times to make sure House hadn't followed her. She knew he couldn't, but that didn't always stop him from trying.

"Ah, Mrs. Dr. House." Quintessa was, as usual, in her garden. "Mr. Wilde told me you would be coming to visit. I was just picking some fresh strawberries for you to bring back to the Villa."

"Thank you Quintessa." It figured Damien would call. The man was always one step ahead of everything.

"You wish to see the other map, yes?"

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble." She had a feeling it wouldn't be.

"No. Mr. Wilde told me to have it ready."

"Ready?" How ready could it get? It was a map.

"Follow me please." Quintessa picked up her basket of strawberries and lead Cuddy into the house. "You and the other Dr. House are quite interested in the treasure, no?"

"House likes to have puzzles to solve."

"And you?" There was a strange sadness in Quintessa's voice.

"I like to win." Cuddy smiled, but it was an empty smile. Here they were, on their honeymoon, and they were competing, again. They should be lounging around naked, making love morning noon and night, and instead they were fighting over an old map and sneaking around behind each other's back.

"Winning isn't everything," Quintessa said wisely.

"Try telling my husband that." Cuddy sighed.

"Here is the map." Quintessa pointed to a large table that was lit from beneath. On it laid the old, ornate map that had hung in the library for centuries.

"You must have looked," Cuddy mused, putting her map on top of the other.

"For the treasure?"

"Yes." Cuddy's eyes grew wide as a giant X marked the spot. It was the junction of two rivers, one drawn on the ornate map, one on the rudimentary map. "Do these rivers exist?" She hadn't remembered seeing either of them.

"If they did, it was a long time ago." Quintessa had successfully avoided answering Cuddy's other question.

"How am I supposed to find it then?" Neither map was exactly to scale, or entirely accurate.

"I will leave that to you."

House paced the Villa like a caged animal. He had thought about going after her, trying to deduce where she'd headed, but the island was too large for him to search, and she could have gone anywhere. He closed his eyes and tried to envision the map.

Damien must have told her about that river. That's where she was headed. He jumped up, ready to take action. "What a minute!" It was so obvious to him now. "Damien drew that river, to throw me off course."

"Now why would he do that?" Wilson was back, shaking his head.

"Because, he wants her for himself." House wondered if Wilson had slipped him the wrong pills. He poured a few into his mouth, just to check; then swallowed them down when he felt they were safe.

"Really?" House's imaginary friend strolled over and dropped down onto the couch. "This is pretty comfy."

"Don't get used to it."

"Why am I here House?" Wilson had better things to do than hang around in House's subconscious.

"I have to find that treasure." It was such a good cover story House almost bought it himself.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? I have to win the bet."

"Why?"

House looked at his friend with exasperation. Wilson could be quite thick at times. "Because I want to make her do unspeakable things to me."

"She'd do them anyway." Wilson was unimpressed. He was also right.

"I can't let her win!" God, it was like talking to a wall.

"Why not?" Wilson remained the voice of unhelpfulness.

"AAARRRR!" House threw something, the first thing he could find, at Wilson. It was a coffee mug and it shattered to pieces against the wall after whizzing through the apparition.

"Did you think that was going to work?" Wilson chuckled infuriatingly.

"GO AWAY!"

"I can't." Wilson propped his feet up on the coffee table. "You need me." It was nice to be needed and all, but House's mind wasn't the nicest place to be needed in.

"I need to find that treasure." House was like a bulldog. Once his mind was set on a puzzle, or mystery, or diagnosis, he wouldn't give up until he found the answer. He couldn't. It consumed him.

There were times when his puzzles were all he had to take away the mindless hours of pain. When all he could do was lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and biting his tongue to keep from crying out, he had his puzzles. Why was Cuddy wearing that low cut blouse today? What was Stacy reading so intently in the corner of his hospital room? Why did this Wilson guy keep showing up with homemade cookies?

When he wasn't trying to read the people around him, he was pouring over his own case. He should have gone for a checkup as soon as the pain started, but he'd been too stubborn. He should have demanded that Stacy sign something saying she wouldn't touch his leg before going under. But he'd trusted her. Sadly, there were some mistakes in life that couldn't be taken back.

"Which is why you need to stop and think about what you're doing." Wilson had heard House's thoughts. He was, after all, only a portion of House's labyrinthine brain.

"I need to find that treasure." He sounded like a broken record because it was easier to focus on some stupid treasure than to face what Wilson was talking about.

"You're going to lose her House. Like you lost Stacy."

"Cuddy has lasted a lot longer than Stacy." House didn't like bringing up the only other woman who ever truly loved him.

"True, but your relationship has changed. The stakes are higher now."

"We haven't changed." That had been his worst fear, that getting married would change things.

"Oh, right, I forgot. People don't change."

"Exactly!" Finally Wilson was seeing things his way.

"Do you really think she's going to take your abuse forever House?" Wilson sounded very sobering. House didn't like it one bit.

House banged his cane on the floor and Wilson vanished. He didn't notice, however, because he was deep in his own thoughts.

Cuddy had stayed with him for so long because he hadn't given her much option. He had actively sabotaged every relationship she'd had. She would hate him if she knew the lengths he'd gone to, the horrible tactics he'd taken.

He had successfully driven away every man she'd ever dated. Those he didn't scare off he paid off. Those he couldn't pay off he had arrested for drug smuggling. Well, just the one really, and he deserved it.

But Damien wasn't going to be that easy to get rid of. Damien was too confident to be scared off, to rich to be paid off, and too smart to fall for the old slip the pills in his coat pocket trick. "DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!" House threw his cane across the room which, in retrospect, was a stupid idea, as he was still having difficulty walking without it.

As House hobbled across the floor, wincing with each step, he felt a pair of eyes watching him. "Oh Greg," she said sorrowfully.

"Oh shit." He felt his heart sink.

"You're never going to be as good as Damien."

"You don't even know him!" House glared at the dark haired beauty he'd once shared a life with.

"I know everything you know Greg." Stacy walked over and stepped on his cane, preventing him from picking it up.

"Then you know you're the last person I want to see right now."

"Yes." She bent over and picked up the cane. "You should just let Damien have her. He'd be good to her. He'd make her happy."

"The way Mark is good to you? The way he makes you happy?" He could see in her face, saw it the last time they'd actually met, that Mark didn't make her happy. Not completely.

"Well, Mark can't exactly give me this," she motioned around her at the exquisite Villa, "but he makes me feel like he can."

"That doesn't even make sense." House dismissed her romantic overture.

"No, not to you," she said sadly.

"Go to Hell." House threw something at her, he wasn't even sure what it was, and he knew it wouldn't make any difference, but it still felt good to throw something.

"It took me three years to get out Greg." She looked at him and he knew what she meant, since he was the one making her say it. "If you love her, you'll let her go." Stacy's image faded on those words, leaving him alone once more.

House watched the spot she had once occupied, if only in his mind. There was so much he should have said to her. So many things he needed to apologize for, but there was no point. She hadn't really been there anyway. Besides, she had crippled him, so her mistake was far worse than anything he did to her.

House thought about her words. "Why her?" he asked the empty room. had he chosen his ex-girlfriend, the woman Cuddy conspired with to betray him, as the one to tell him to leave Cuddy? What did it mean?

He had screwed up with Stacy, pushed her away but never really let her go. She hated him now, while still loving him. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She would never truly be free of him. She would never truly be happy.

Is that what he was going to do to Cuddy? Was he dooming her to the same half life he'd given Stacy? Or would it be worse?

Stacy was strong, stronger than Cuddy, and hard, much harder. She'd had enough sense to get out when living with him became unbearable. He had treated them each with raging hatred. He had made them both miserable, but Stacy had been smart enough to walk away. When he finally pushes Cuddy too far, she will be destroyed in a way Stacy never was. And there was no doubt in House's mind that it would happen, eventually. It was just a matter of when, of how much more she could take from him.

"What happened in here?" Cuddy had returned. She was excited to share her news with him, but the site of shattered glass and ceramic stopped her in her tracks.

"Accident." House looked away. He couldn't look into her eyes. Not right now.

"Clearly." She started to clean up his 'accident'. "I think I found the treasure." She felt better now that all the sharp pieces had been swept up.

"Good for you," he snarled.

She explained all about the two rivers and the X, laying the map out on the table with a large piece of white paper over it. She'd traced the other river onto the paper along with the maps rough outline so she could remember exactly where she needed to go.

"Great," he commented vaguely. It wasn't that she'd found the treasure before him that had him so disconnected. It was that she wanted to share it with him. It made him feel guilty, which was a feeling he didn't like at all. He had no idea how she did it.

"Are you okay?" She was trying to look him in the eye, but he kept avoiding her stare.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're not fine House." She finally managed to grab hold if his head and forced him to look at her. His eyes were bleary and glazed over. "How many pills have you taken today?" He had the distinct appearance of a junkie who just ODed.

"None of your damned business." He pushed her away.

Cuddy was a persistent woman. She had been through much worse than this with him. "Come here and let me check you." She took his wrist to check his pulse. It was racing. "How long have you been like this?" She checked his forehead, which was hot and growing sticky.

"Leave me alone!" He shoved her away a little harder.

"Fine, House, is that what you want?" She was bluffing. She had no intention of leaving him like this. Instead she went to get him a glass of water.

House began convulsing. His body was going into shock.

"House!" Cuddy grabbed the phone and called Quintessa at the house. She hadn't thought about what to do in an emergency, mistakenly thinking that their honeymoon would be one place House wouldn't self destruct.

"Leave me," he fought to keep her away from him. He tried to ignore the fact that he was breaking her heart, telling himself over and over that it was for her own good.

"Never." She slipped herself under his arm, trying to hoist him to his feet. "I'm moving you to the bed. You'll be more comfortable…" he shoved her hard.

"I said leave me! Go! I don't want you." He knew his words were cutting her sharply, that each one tore through her heart like a dagger, but it had to be done.

Cuddy stood and stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. Her eyes began to well up with tears as she stared, unblinking, unable to move or speak or breathe.

"Go to Damien. It's what you really want." He hadn't really wanted to pull the Damien card, but she was leaving him no choice.

"House, stop it! This isn't you talking." She rationalized as she used to do years before. "It's the Vicodin. You took too much," she was speaking slowly, not just because she wanted him to understand her, but to keep herself from breaking down in tears. She spoke slowly, like a doctor, using her words carefully, trying to sooth the patient with them. "We need to cleanse your system…"

"I need you to GO!" House screamed, pushing her away with his cane. "Get away from me. For good." She wasn't getting it. "Forever!"

Cuddy snapped back into action. "No." With superhuman strength she pulled him to his feet and slowly started to move him to the bed. He tried to fight, tried to bring all his weight down on her, to make it impossible for her to move him, but she did it anyway, though slowly, and with great effort. "We're going to get through this House."

He grabbed her wrist. "I don't want to get through this…not with you!" He could see it in her eyes, she was reaching the breaking point.

"Do you want to die House?" The tears couldn't be held back any longer.

"Yes." Why wouldn't she just go? What was it going to take to make her leave him?

"You don't mean that." Her words were shaky and she felt as if she would faint. She leaned against the wall for support as she tried to breathe.

"I mean it Cuddy. I've always meant it." He could feel it coming. He could feel the dam bursting open and the words and anger and pain rushing forth. He wanted to stop it, but it was too late now. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Let me go! Stop trying to save me!"

She just blinked. How could he be saying these words? It had to be the pain killers. It couldn't be him.

"I love you House." She spoke meekly, knowing he didn't care, not in that moment.

"You don't love anyone but yourself. You keep me around because it makes you feel better about yourself. Because you think it's going to get you on the fast track to Heaven. Well let me tell you something. There is no Heaven, and if there were, you wouldn't be going there."

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It grew tighter with each beat, closing in on itself. He screamed out in agony.

In a flash Cuddy was there, lifting his head and pouring the water into his slack mouth. When he finally could, he pushed the glass out of her hand and listened to it shatter against the wall.

At that moment, Quintessa led a couple of men with a stretcher into the Villa. With great efficiency she instructed the paramedics while coming over to comfort Cuddy. "Mr. Wilde has arranged for Dr. Olivieras to meet you at Andrews Memorial Hospital. It's a short flight. Everything will be fine." Her tone was warm and concerned.

"Thank you, Quintessa. I…" Cuddy was emotionally exhausted.

"Don't say a word. Just go be with your husband." Quintessa took Cuddy's shoulder and led her out after the stretcher. "Andrews is a wonderful hospital. And Dr. Olivieras is Mr. Wilde's close, personal friend. He will take the best care of Dr. House or Mr. Wilde will have him drawn and quartered." She was pleased to see a smile spread across Cuddy's face, even if it was a sad smile.

The plane was not the spacious, luxurious private jet they had arrived on, but a small medic plane appointed with all new medical technology. While a paramedic set House up with an IV and a dose of gas to make the trip more bearable for all of them, Cuddy quizzed them on their techniques, and rattled off House's medical history like she was taking an exam.

House, feeling the gas slowly mush his brain into a pain free cloud of numbness, listened as she went on and on. He wanted to tell her not to worry. He'd been through this before. They would pump his stomach, force him to eat horrible hospital food to see if it stayed down then send him back on his self destructive way. But she already knew that. She'd been through it before.

It was shortly after Stacy had left. Wilson and Cuddy were taking turns keeping an eye on him but Wilson was having problems with Bonnie and made the mistake of trusting House for two minutes. He'd called Cuddy, asked her to come early. She was on her way. House was napping. What could possibly go wrong?

When Cuddy arrived, the door was locked. She woke up several neighbors trying to get in. Finally the super came and let her in.

House was laying on the floor, vomit and blood had pooled together under his mouth. His body was twitching but otherwise lifeless.

"House!" She ran to him, checked his vitals, in full doctor mode. She did everything right, bringing him back to consciousness, filling him with liquids to flush out the drugs, but she didn't trust herself. Ever since the operation he had berated her doctoring every chance he got. Now she needed second opinions on every cough that came her way.

She drove him to the hospital herself. She knew it would take too long to get an ambulance. She sped down the streets of Princeton. At that hour the cops were busy trolling downtown for drunk drivers so she wasn't afraid of being stopped.

The car screeched into the ambulance bay and a stretcher was waiting for them. A few hours later Dr. Yang, the only one she would trust with House's life, came out. "He had a lot of drugs in his system. Another half hour and he would have died." Cuddy broke down in Yang's arms, sobbing.

It had been months since the operation that removed part of the muscle from his leg. She knew he was suffering, and she tried to understand, tried to go easy on him while he recuperated. Things got worse when Stacy left. Now he had a broken heart to go with his broken spirit. It was unbearable, watching him suffer. But that was nothing compared to watching him give up.

To this day House swears it was an accident; that he'd forgotten how many pills he'd taken, but Cuddy knew him. House wasn't forgetful. House didn't have accidents. He was a man in deep pain and he'd just lost the love of his life. She didn't blame him for trying to make that pain go away.

But why would he do it now? She wasn't going to leave him. They had finally gotten together. Why would he have another accident now?

The rest of the night was a blur of white coats rushing past, of blinking and beeping monitors and questions she couldn't answer. "How many pills did he take? What is his usual dosage? Did he have anything to drink?" All she could think about was that she'd left him alone, and she'd almost lost him.

"I'm so sorry House," she cried over his bed as he lay comatose.

Her words penetrated his subconscious like the prick of a pin. Her guilt seeping into his veins. This wasn't her fault. It was an accident. He hadn't meant to take so many pills. He was only trying to stop the pain.

He felt groggy, confused. His head was swimming in a mire of drugs and pain. He could hear someone talking, but it sounded distant. He tried to focus on the voices. They became clearer as the pain shifted and changed. He felt himself slipping away to some long ago time and place. A place he had never wanted to go back to.

"Amputate it if you have to." Stacy sounded agitated, tired, defeated.

"He doesn't want…"

"What's he going to do? Sue you for saving his life?"

"You're a lawyer Stacy. You know he can." Cuddy sounded exhausted, sad, guilty, always so guilty.

"I'll talk him out of it." Stacy wanted this over. She couldn't keep watching him suffer like this. She wanted her vibrant, brilliant asshole back.

"I won't amputate his leg Stacy. I can't." House had practically begged. It was the hardest medical decision she'd ever had to make, but no matter how right she thought it was, she just couldn't do it. "I will do the operation if you give the approval." It was a loop hole that they had worked out. With House unconscious, it was Stacy's job to make any new medical decisions on his behalf.

House felt the rage building up inside him. Both women knew that he would never agree to this operation if he were able to make the decision himself, so they took that ability away from him. He would never forgive them for this.

He was struggling, trying to wake up, to tell them not to operate, but the drugs they had given him finally seeped deep into his brain and shut it down completely. When he woke up again, he would be back in the present, back in the hospital in Jamaica, but the lingering resentment he felt toward the two women who had betrayed him would live on.

Cuddy was curled up in the chair beside his bed. A gentle island breeze blew through the window and she could hear the clanking of boats in the nearby marina. It all lulled her into a restless sleep. It was a sleep plagued with nightmares of the past, nightmares that she had lived through once already and that threatened to come to pass once more.

The operation had been her idea, a compromise between Stacy's desire for amputation and House's desire to do nothing. She had just wanted to make everyone happy. She had wanted a miracle.

She poured over medical journals and case files, called on former mentors and colleagues, all in the hopes of finding some way to save him. But what she really wanted was to keep him in her life, and he knew it. He called her out on her selfish motives for taking his case. He pressed her to admit her feelings for him. He took a perverse pleasure in her discomfort.

That's when she started avoiding him and he began calling her 'the doctor'. The way he said it, the sarcasm that dripped from his voice made her painfully aware of what he thought of her medical skills.

Maybe she wanted to do the surgery to teach him a lesson, to show him that she could be a good doctor. Maybe she had done it for such a petty, selfish reason. But she did believe, she still believed, that he would have died if she hadn't done something. The only other option was amputation and she knew he would hate her forever if she did that. Removing the muscle from his leg wasn't ideal, and she knew he wouldn't go for it, but it was all she could come up with. It was a shot in the dark and she took it.

"He'll never go for that," Stacy told her when she first heard the idea.

"I know." Cuddy took a deep breath. She knew she was asking a lot of her friend, but it had to be asked. "But if anyone can talk him into it, I know that you can."

"I'll see what I can do."

Cuddy should have known Stacy had no intention of talking to House and she wasn't surprised when Stacy came to her with the proxy idea. She should have said no. She should have told Stacy to forget it. It was a horrible idea. It would never work. House would resent them both for the rest of his life if it didn't work. Well, it did work, and he still ended up resenting them.

Maybe if she'd pushed him harder to rehabilitate. Those first few weeks were so important, but he kept coming up with excuse after excuse not to go to physical therapy, not to try to walk, not to wean himself off the drugs. By the time she started to push back, it was too late. The damage had been done.

Their long, twisted relationship had been filled with maybes. Maybe if he hadn't cheated they would have stayed together, maybe if she hadn't done the surgery he would have gotten better on his own, maybe if she hadn't started that stupid bet he wouldn't be laying in a hospital in Jamaica.

It all felt like a house of cards, instable layer upon instable layer, waiting for the smallest gust of wind to come and knock it all down. She was doing all she could to keep it standing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that House was about to take a deep breath and blow it all down.