The defibrillator paddles appeared and Cuddy's back arched against them as the electrical surge pounded through her body. "Clear!" House had heard the nurse shout before the jolt, memories of Princeton flooding over him as the familiar smells and sounds surrounded him. He would be limping through the halls and hear these sounds. His team would come up behind him and tell him what tests were negative and what they thought their current patient might have. He had taken it for granted and had gotten to do what he wanted when he wanted. He had liked his job but was miserable anyway. He remembered Cuddy from the beginning of his employment. Six years he spent avoiding clinic duty and she had finally grown tired enough of his disregard for her authority to force him into it.

"I looked into that philosopher you quoted, and you're right, you can't always get what want, but it turns out, if you try sometimes, you get what you need." She had said, "I need you to do your job."

House smiled at the memory because he had been stumped. She had won that battle as she would win many more. She and Wilson were the only ones who could.

House's stinging prelude to this, "Well, as the philosopher Jagger once said, 'You can't always get what you want.'" Had never been more true. He had wanted Cuddy and lost her. He had wanted Wilson to live and he was gone too. And now...

"We got a rhythm." A nurse chirped happily, jolting House from his thoughts.

House let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His piercing angry stare focused right on Dr. Kincaid, "If only patients could fire doctors for nearly killing them. Oh wait, she's the Dean of Medicine, she can fire you." House said, his voice cold with venom. Dr. Kincaid retreated then, presumably to schedule the tests House had ordered.

Another hour that House thought he would have been long gone was spent sitting by Cuddy. She woke again, and at least he could tell her that she had been stabilized. "Your heart stopped." Damn, me, he thought, that was not telling her she was stable. It was the blunt truth.

She blinked rapidly, taking in the news. After a long moment, she said, "I have to call my mother."

"I did that. No answer, so I left the most awkward message in history. She'll fly down here in a ball of rage once she hears it, so not to worry."

"You're leaving." she deduced, "I thought you might have already." She said, her voice small.

"I thought you would have thrown me off your property the moment you laid eyes on me." He countered.

"That's what I had planned to do if you ever showed up." She admitted, turning her head away.

"What stopped you?"

"After I got Wilson's letter and his news..." She began, unable to actually tell him that she felt bad that his one and only friend would be dead in less than a year. "The past few years have cooled my anger." She said by way of explanation. The truth was that her reaction was far different than the one she had planned. But, when House had showed up, giving her that pensive look, his blue eyes, humble and tired, her heart had softened. He had been through a lot and now, she knew, had stayed with Wilson until the end. If that wasn't a punishment, she didn't know what was. It was the one form of misery that House had not done to himself. Wilson's death had changed everything and she found herself unable to pile more grief on top of it. It wouldn't stop her from dismissing him, however, and she had tried. A life threatening illness must have been the only thing that would have stopped her.

"I made some other calls as well." He interjected into her thoughts, "I'm getting you a consult from the diagnostics department at Princeton."

"Chase?" She asked.

"And Foreman, they have no idea it was me. Can't wait to see their faces." He quipped, his eyes taking on that familiar sarcastic twinkle, "I've also attempted to get a hold of Cameron."

"You're not leaving?" She asked, wondering why she felt the sudden urge to ask him to stay.

"And leave it up to those morons to diagnose this? No."

This. Not her. She understood then. She was a puzzle that he had to figure out. A chance to relive the glory days. Why did she feel disappointed by this, hadn't she learned her lesson?

It was better that she thought she was some puzzle to him, he knew. No reason to tell her how personal it was.