A/N-Hi all. Thank you so much for your patience with this story and for all of your thoughts and suggestions, time is difficult to find as of late but i'll continue to update as regularly as possible. Thanks so much to all of those who commented on this chapter: IHeartHouseCuddy, dragonball256, KiwiClare, Huddylovelover, ikissedtheLaurie, JM, lenasti16, ammeboss, freeasabird14, JLCH, LoveMyHouse, linda12344, jaybe61, BabalooBlue, Little Greg, Suzieqlondon, LapizSilkwood, bere, Abby, THE Nick' Amaral, HuddyGirl, Alex, precioussoulandsweetcheeksiin1, grouchysnarky, Boo's House, ClareBear and the guest reviewers.

-Trying a New Color-

House and Cuddy pulled up to his former patient's home and looked at the modest but welcoming accommodations for a moment before getting out of the car.

"Let me do the talking," Cuddy suggested as they approached the front door.

"I can actually handle talking to patients."

"It just makes the most sense. I'd like answers instead of a second lawsuit."

"You think they're going to sue me for being impolite?" he asked while she knocked.

The door opened slowly as a small child stood on the other side, waving timidly. "Hi," Cuddy said softly, "is your mom or dad here?"

The child nodded but didn't move, staring up at the visitors. A woman emerged from the background, "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, directing the child away from the door.

"Mrs. Fields?" Cuddy asked, "I'm Lisa Cuddy from-"

"I remember who you are, both of you. What do you need?" the former patient asked as she folded her arms. "I've submitted all of the bills to the insurance, and we're doing what we can to make arrangements to pay what isn't being covered."

"We're not here about the insurance or to collect a payment."

"You know that you're billing me for the treatments that didn't work? I'll be paying for that trial and error approach for years."

"Better to live and pay than die and owe less," House inserted.

The former patient scowled, "Why are you here?"

Cuddy tried to step in again, "Is that why you filed the lawsuit, because you couldn't pay the bills? Why didn't you come in and discuss this with our billing department? Some other arrangement could have been made. House selects his cases based on the patient files, not on a patient's bank account, so, beyond insurance, there's really no consideration for the ability to-"

"What lawsuit?"

"The lawsuit you filed against Dr. House and the hospital."

"I didn't file a lawsuit. You think just because I'm not some six-figure earning, condescending doctor that I'm trying to sue to get ahead? I work hard, my husband works hard and we've earned every damn thing we have."

"I'm sure you have. It wasn't meant to be insulting."

"It just was."

"I assumed that you sued because we have actually been informed of a lawsuit. Dr. House and I have been in meetings, we've seen the paperwork. We were told you sued us and that your lawyers and ours reached a settlement," Cuddy explained, trying to reassure the woman. "I was fired as a result."

Fields studied her, saying after a moment, "I didn't sue you. And there's no settlement that I know of, at least I haven't received a penny. We have bills pouring in still for all of the things the insurance didn't cover."

"Then you stand to benefit if Cuddy gets her job back," House explained. "I'm sure you can fix that, right Cuddy?"

"Of course. Patients who can't afford their bills due to hardship are encouraged to come in to discuss different arrangements," Cuddy added. "Even if I don't get my job back, I can tell you who to talk to…even have someone assist you with the paperwork."

Fields' face softened, "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

Cuddy wrote names and numbers down for Fields after they were finally invited inside. Cuddy and Fields talked while House sat in the living room, watching the cartoons that were on TV. During a commercial, House turned toward Fields, "Even though you didn't actually sue, did anyone approach you about the possibility? Maybe try to talk you into it?"

"Sort of," Fields answered, "there was a guy who asked a lot of questions. He said he was from your hospital. It did seem like he was trying to point out flaws. He gave me a number for lawyers who do pro bono work in cases like mine."

"Do you remember his name?" Cuddy asked hopefully. "Or do you still have the phone number he gave you?"

Fields yanked a card down from the refrigerator, "Here, these are the lawyers. The man didn't leave a card. I don't remember his name…maybe Murphy…Mills…"

"Malloy," an older child answered from her spot on the floor.

"Are you sure?" Fields asked.

"Yea," the girl replied without looking away from the TV.

Cuddy knew from the look on House's face that the name was familiar just as House knew the business card that Cuddy held in her hand belonged to the lawyers that they had met with only days earlier. A few moments later, House and Cuddy were back in her car. "Malloy was my new supervisor for the two minutes before I quit," House explained, "and I'm guessing the business card belonged to the same lawyers we were supposed to meet with?"

"Yup," Cuddy answered as she drove.

"So now, we figure out who Malloy and the lawyers both work for…or why Malloy personally holds a grudge."

They decided to go back to House's apartment instead of to a bar so they could search online for Malloy and the lawyers. As they drove, she began to rant about Theresa Fields' unfortunate financial situation. Cuddy animatedly complained about costs for patients, issues with insurance and even some of the hospital's existing policies. She followed him into his apartment, taking the drink he handed to her and finishing it without discussing the earliness of the hour or the prudence of drinking alone together. House didn't interrupt her, choosing instead to listen to her angry diatribe on the subject with some interest while he refilled her glass.

She ceased her angry rant for a moment, taking another long sip and looking around for his laptop before carrying it to the coffee table. He watched with amusement while she opened the lid to the computer, and closed her eyes while it started up, peeking cautiously at the screen.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Preparing myself for whatever I'm about to see," she answered, opening her eyes fully when she saw the images on his computer. "Music?"

"You were expecting something else?"

"Porn," she admitted immediately.

"Well that's nice. You just assume that because I'm a man I spend my nights looking at porn on the internet?" he accused. "Sexist."

"You've admitted it. Everyone knows you watch it at work."

"Sure I do. But I do have other interests, you know," he argued with exaggerated frustration.

"I'm sorry," she immediately countered, "I'm sure you have plenty of other interests."

"I'll accept your apology under one condition."

"Which is?"

"Don't look at my browsing history."

"Jackass," she said she laughed, the alcohol relaxing her a bit, "I was actually starting to feel almost bad."

"I know, it was great," he looked on proudly.

"Should I be worried about what I'm going to find on here?"

"Music and porn are the only two reasons to have a computer at home."

"I'll click carefully then," she retorted before she stood up, "back in a second."

Cuddy disappeared toward the bathroom while House refilled their drinks. As he returned to the sofa, her phone began to ring. It was sitting on his coffee table, the display lighting up while it rang and announcing that the caller's number was private. He assumed that it was Wilson, since the landlines from each doctor's personal office were usually marked as private, so he picked up the phone and answered, "Dr. Cuddy's Palace of Pain and Pleasure, this is Dr. Cuddy's personal pleaser, how may I be of assistance today?"

"Excuse me?" a confused male voice asked from the other end. "Umm…this is Bradley Nease, I'm trying to reach Lisa Cuddy. I'm calling about her interest in our Chief Administrator position at the new Marilyn H. Crayton Hospital in San Diego."

"She's busy right now," House replied hesitantly before he finished off his drink in one hearty gulp.

"Are you her assistant?"

"Sure."

"We would like Dr. Cuddy to come and meet with some of our benefactors and our search committee later this week. I understand that she'd like to reschedule her pre-interview, but we really need to fill the position as soon as possible, so time is of the essence. I know this is last minute, but we're willing to make her travel arrangements for her and pay all of her related expenses."

House was silent, his head spinning for a moment. He actually felt his skin growing hot while he tried to consider his next move. "This week?" he finally asked lamely.

"Yes. Dr. Cuddy's resume and accomplishments have pushed her to the top of our list, we'd really like to hear from her so we can have the opportunity to discuss this thoroughly."

House coughed softly and said as if on autopilot, "I can tell her, but I'm pretty sure she's interested in another position."

"Oh," Nease answered, "I'm really sorry to hear that. Please have her call us personally. I think we may be able to convince her that we're worth considering. We're willing to assist with relocation expenses, of course, and we offer employee benefits to nurture and support life in and out of the workplace. But I'm sure she'd be more interested in the actual job than the perks. She'd have the opportunity to grow a hospital from the very beginning, to be part of a whole new generation of patient care that could redefine-"

"I can tell her, but I think her mind is made up," House interrupted, clicking the button to end the call even though he could hear the man on the other end of the line still talking.

House dropped his head back on the sofa while he thought, a sense of panic welling up within him. Then he felt something entirely different, he could sense her there even though there were no other signs of her presence. Turning his head slowly, he squinted when his eyes found her unhappy expression. She was in the hallway, arms folded while she glared right through him. "Why would you do that to me?" she asked through gritted teeth as she approached. "This is not your decision to make."

"You can still call them back. Bradley is dying to hear from you."

"You owe me an answer," she ordered as she drew closer, standing at the end of his sofa next to him.

"I thought Wilson was calling you."

"Which only explains why you answered the phone. But when it wasn't Wilson, you kept talking. So at that point, instead of asking him to wait a few minutes until I returned, or taking a fucking message, you tell him I'm interested in something else."

"You are interested in something else. You're interested in going back to your hospital."

"My decision, House. My phone call. My conversation to have."

"So fucking go if you want to." House held up the phone to her, looking away the entire time.

"Maybe this is one of those crossroads in my life where I can make a career move that changes everything for me."

"Why do you think everything needs changed?"

"Why do you think it shouldn't be?"

"Everything's fine the way it is."

"It could have been a brand new opportunity for me. You deliberately sabotaged that."

"No, I didn't. I didn't tell him 'no'…if anything they'll come back with a stronger offer because you're playing hard to hire. I helped you."

"That's not the point. The point is, this is my future and my career. Why can't you try trusting me? Why would you assume that I wouldn't consider the people I'm closest to when I make those decisions?"

House stood, leaning on his cane and staring at some unknown point in the distance while he thought. There was no sense of urgency while he avoided giving her an answer. He seemed calm. By all outward appearances, he was completely disconnected, but in reality, his mind was thundering as he tried to find a coherent thought amongst the ruckus.

"I want an answer," she insisted, growing rapidly irritated with his detached response.

He wasn't exactly sure what he actually wanted, but the thought of having any less of her in his life hurt. The idea that she would be on the other side of the country filled him with complete dread, and his mind circled around the fact that he wasn't ready to let her go. Hastened by his belief that the world he knew and preferred was crumbling away, he did the only thing that seemed to make sense: he took one small step toward her and kissed her.

No longer distant physically or mentally, he insistently moved to her mouth, his lips meeting hers in a startling way that set off alarms, twinges and an undeniable surge of sensations throughout every place in her body. His hands loosely found her waist, venturing no further than those points of contact. Her hands dropped idly to her sides, unwilling to engage or deny for a moment, her mouth allowing the kiss but not exactly actively engaged in it.

Remembering her anger, she put her hands against his chest and put distance between them in a way that hurt him deeply but not for the physical force she exhibited. She stepped back two steps, quickly shaking her head to try to clear the tempted but confused fog from her mind. "What am I supposed to do about that?" she asked, shocked.

He slowly developed a response, "I dunno."

"You were trying to shut me up?"

"No. That was just an added perk," he flatly tried to joke.

"Then what were you trying to do?"

He shrugged, raising his eyes to her with the most uncertain look she had ever seen on his face. Had she not known better, she would have assumed that some unseen force physically pushed him into her and required him to take action. She was breathing unsteadily, her shoulders lifting while she tried to sort everything out. His eyes remained on her, clear blue and heavy with concerned defeat. She shook her head slowly, looking for words that didn't seem to come. "House," she said less irately, "I can't…I'm not even…"

His brow furrowed while her thoughts wobbled, waiting for her response until a moment when she pursed her lips, her eyes lifted right to his, and she finally shrugged in return. She moved quickly to close the gap between them. She reached up and offered a demanding kiss in return. He felt his body jolt to life at the graceful and purposeful flicker of her tongue and the unmistakably resolved way that she was kissing him. There was a complete lack of hesitation, confusion or uncertainty in the way she was there, her body, her lips, the hand that had a firm grip on the back of his neck, all forces demanding to be noticed and answered.

Responding immediately as prompted to by her counter move, he was against her and engaged. Each second seemed to be rapidly escalating their investment, so he broke for a moment from the intensity. His hands on her hips, he pushed her back down so her feet were firmly on the ground, and he returned her question, "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"I don't know," she answered assertively and unapologetically. "I have…no idea."

He nodded, her answer one that was perfectly worded and completely clear to him. In the next moment, spurred by his continued need to keep her near, his free arm wrapped around her again and pulled her flush against his body. She reached between them, popping open the button on her jeans, hooking her fingers under the waistband of both her jeans and panties, and slipping them part way down her thighs. Her clothing hovered there, not falling to the ground because of its tightness, and she couldn't push the garments down any lower because he held her body upright and against him while his mouth found her neck, his hands learning the curves of her body while he whispered sighs and groans into her ear that spurred a flood of wetness to surge between her legs.

She began to remove her own shirt since he refused to be deterred from touching her in order to dispatch of clothing, even if it meant she'd be more naked next to him. Her body shifted and twisted in the space he allowed her while she slinked from her shirt. Appreciating her efforts, he found each new patch of exposed skin. He did help in some small way, unhooking her bra because his hands were, at one point, in the right place at the right time to do so, his lips moving to her breasts while she pulled the garment away.

Their pace was restless and refused to be delayed, since they decided to cross the line, neither saw reason to slow. Stopping at that point would have been more uncomfortable than dealing with the aftermath, but neither paused to acknowledge that fact. She reached between them to start taking off his clothes, because he wasn't bothering with that either, she seemed to be doing a wonderful job of dealing with the clothing that prevented their progress without his intervention. When she released the button on his jeans, she felt his hand move to her sex, three of his fingers slipping against her folds until two pressed into her.

She gasped loudly, her body leaning heavily against his for a moment while her hips rocked toward him. Passively enjoying the touch for only a moment or two, she rubbed his cock through his still partially in-place clothes. The sensation of the fabric of his clothing was rough and unwelcomed next to the smoother, silkier, warmer textures he was imagining. When he could no longer allow the irritation of his clothing, he regretfully removed his fingers from her body. Finally assisting her in the act of disrobing, he removed his jeans, knowing that, if it was possible, he would have gladly ripped them from his body at that point. Once his hands were removed from her to rid himself of his jeans, she quickly wiggled free of hers, tossing her socks to the side before she helped him complete the task.

They were naked in his living room, returning quickly to each other, his hand finding the wetness that had spread to her inner thighs during their activities. When she reached for him again, her fingers wrapping urgently around his sex, he finally slowed in favor of relocation. Taking his cane tightly in hand from where it had fallen against the sofa, he took a few steps, pinning her against his front with his one free arm. Wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, she stepped backwards down the hall toward his room, half-carried since her toes only touched the ground on alternating steps.

He pushed her hips firmly down so she was sitting on his bed, dropping his cane onto the floor with a harsh clatter that possibly could have stunned them enough to reassess the situation, but it didn't. Pulling her legs up and tugging her body down so her ass was almost hanging off of the bed, he positioned himself in front her. His eyes met hers, searching not only for permission, but anticipation, and he found both. His gaze left her face for a moment while he braced on his hands and leaned partially on the bed over her. He watched with pleased reverence as his body began to disappear into hers. Teasing with a few shallow thrusts as he slowly gained entrance to her body, he watched the progression until he was eventually entirely within her.

At that point, he closed his eyes, feeling somewhat overly aroused. She wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, allow him the moment to regroup as her hips began to lift against him. He remained still, partially standing, while she moved for the both of them, her desire dictating the response of her body. And he loved it. He was awed by her lust that seemed to match the his own, one he tried to keep tightly bound and hidden from sight. He scooted her up the bed, knowing that if he tried to remain standing, she'd be reminded of his weaknesses. His body settled over her, heavy and strong as they started fucking each other. Both were frantic and desperate, like they had been for most of the encounter. They were raw and carnal, enjoying the pleasure that occurred as a result of something it seemed they had to do.

Ironically, they were less patient than in their youth, less thoughtful and coordinated, but more passionate and skilled nonetheless, and the resulting sex was mindblowing, filled with craving and longing that didn't seem to subdue as they continued. They came loudly together, their bodies subtly undulating long past the point of climax because it still felt good.

He was dazed, his face slack as she rolled them on their sides and kept him next to her. Neither said a word as they faced each other, and the silence was in some ways merciful and in some ways uncertain torment. It wasn't long before hands and lips wandered again while bodies began moving against each other. Her body was there next to his, still naked and accessible, still near enough to touch, so not touching her seemed absurd. They had sex again, more slowly, more conscientiously than their earlier encounter. She was half asleep against him when they were done until she heard his home phone ring. When the answering machine picked up, they heard Wilson, "Hey House, I'm stopping over. I hope you're with Cuddy. I just swung by, and she's not at her place…I'm kinda worried that getting fired has hit her harder than we think. We should probably keep an eye on her."

Cuddy jumped up out of bed, running into the living room and scooping up all of her clothing into her arms before she jogged back to the bathroom. When she emerged, her face still flushed but a bit more tidy, and certainly more clothed than she had been a few minutes earlier, she found House already dressed and sitting on the sofa.

"Umm," she started to say when Wilson knocked on the door.

House's eyes met hers, not at all disapprovingly, and he suggested, "Later?"

"Yea," she smiled with some relief, "later."

He stood, limped around to the door and let Wilson in, "Hello there. How's your mother-henning going?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Wilson asked with concern.

"You said you were coming over…can't I just talk to you now? Do I need to talk to you on your way so you can tell me what you were going to tell me once you got here…only to have to listen to you tell me all over again when you actually arrive?"

"Shut up," the younger man said before another thought seemed to catch his attention. "Cameron and Chase and possibly Foreman are all willing to go wherever you go."

"Of course they are."

"My only concern is Chase. He flipped sides during the whole Vogler thing. You don't think that…maybe he's in on it?"

"He's trying to prove to me that he's trustworthy. He wants back in too much."

Cuddy came out from the kitchen, smiling a bit awkwardly, "Hey Wilson. There is no need to worry, I'm doing fine with being fired. It's all a temporary problem that I'll probably laugh about some day."

"You were here when I called? Have you been here a while?"

"Yea. We stopped up at Theresa Fields' place to talk to her. She was not involved in the lawsuit."

"That's interesting," Wilson answered, "I have some news too, might be useful in negotiations-"

He stopped when her phone rang. She held it up, "It's my brother-in-law."

Wilson watched while Cuddy retreated back to the kitchen to take the call. "That thin line between love and hate…seems to keep getting thinner. Perhaps as thin as…an ultra thin prophylactic?"

House scoffed loudly, prepared to offer what was going to be a rather ardent denial when Wilson raised his hand and brushed at his friend's tee shirt collar. House looked down, seeing a tiny smudge of lipstick. "I'm trying a new color."

"Did you just borrow what Cuddy was obviously wearing today, or did you buy your own?" Wilson questioned while he pulled a very long, distinctively dark hair from House's shoulder and held it up between them.

"Her hair ends up everywhere. Proves nothing."

Wilson smiled and nodded, "Good for you. I'll get out of here in a minute so you can continue doing whatever you're doing that obviously proves nothing."

Cuddy emerged from the kitchen, unaware of House and Wilson's conversation and announcing, "Malloy used to work for Vogler."