A/N: Hey all! Thanks for continuing to read. Thanks to all of last chapter's reviewers: IHeartHouseCuddy, JLCH, OldSFfan, Abby, Anon, freeasabird14, dmarchl21, linda12344, HuddyGirl, Alex, Huddy Fan, the Guests, ikissedtheLaurie, Suzieqlondon, JM, CaptainK8, oc7ober, Jane Q. Doe, LoveMyHouse, Mon Fogel, Bladesmum, Little Greg and grouchysnarky.

-Weak Spots-

House sat at work with Rachel because he had a case, Cuddy had a meeting, and the babysitter was off for the weekend. Rachel was sitting on his desk coloring while he thought. She was talking, telling a story about the picture she was creating. Occasionally something she would say would cut through his deep thought, and he'd answer. She held up the picture when it was finished, and House stopped searching for medical answers to see what she had made.

As Rachel explained her art, he heard someone say from the doorway, "Well, of all of the things I expected see today…"

House looked up from Rachel's picture, his surprise obvious. "Hi Greg," the visitor added when he didn't respond.

"Hi," he answered while he tried to categorize his reaction.

She held out a hand to Rachel, "I'm Stacy."

Rachel shook Stacy's hand for a second, but reached to the side immediately for a fresh piece of paper so she could keep drawing.

"Are you helping your dad at work today?" Stacy asked, casually seeking answers.

"Yup," the girl answered without looking up.

"Well, she's as talkative as you are," Stacy said to House.

"Something wrong? Mark alright?" he questioned.

"He's fine. He's here, if you want to say hi."

"So if-"

"Hey," Cuddy said as she came in and stalled when she saw House's visitor.

A distinct series of expressions crossed her face, each in rapid suggestion. First she was confused, then stunned, then her eyes widened as she smiled at the visitor. "Stacy…hi…I didn't…hi."

Stacy offered Cuddy a hug and they started catching up for a second before Rachel interrupted, "I'm hungry."

"I promised her dinner," Cuddy said while she looked at House and over to Stacy.

"I'm leaving soon," he replied, looking at his watch. House was expecting Wilson any minute so they could leave for the bachelor party.

There were a few awkward seconds while everyone tried to decide what to say or do next. Deep down, Cuddy didn't really want to leave the room, but she kept telling herself that she really had to go.

"I'm going to take Rachel to the cafeteria to eat. Have fun tonight," she told him.

"I'll join you in a few minutes," Stacy offered, looking at Rachel, "that is…if you don't mind?"

Rachel didn't realize Stacy was talking to her. The girl was swinging her arms back and forth absently, thinking about food, and finally said to Cuddy, "Remember, no banilla pudding. It's nasty."

Cuddy nodded at Rachel and said to Stacy, "We'd love for you to join us."

"I'll be home later," House told her, making very purposeful eye contact with Cuddy before she left.

Stacy sat down while House tapped his pen on the desk. "You look older," she observed.

"Everyone else was aging, so I figured, why not?"

"I always knew you'd age well. You look…great."

"You too," he answered without looking at her.

"I heard you're getting married. I called James for dinner because we were visiting my niece in New York, and he had a lot of trouble explaining why he couldn't make it. He's sweet…but easy to read. Not the most gifted liar either."

"He didn't have to lie. It isn't a secret. We should have sold tickets because most of the hospital wanted to come."

"I always wondered if there was something between you two. So much…I don't even know how to explain it. So much…"

"Rage? Irritation?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of tension. That New Year's Eve party when I found you two, sitting outside…right before we broke up."

"We were just sitting. And probably arguing."

"Or that morning when you were in the hospital when I walked in and her hand was on your arm…"

"She was my doctor. Believe me, when that was happening, if I could have figured out how to be treated without anyone touching me, I would have been happy to pay any price."

Stacy laughed softly, "That touch didn't look medical to me. Or maybe she was why you sent me away when I wanted to leave Mark?"

House looked at her and shook his head, "It had nothing to do with Cuddy. I sent you away because I would have made you miserable. We would have made a lot of new memories, and none of them would have been good. You're happy now, right?"

"Yes."

"It was the best decision for all involved. Except maybe Cuddy, she drew the short straw," he joked.

"I think she's very lucky."

"I doubt that."

"Greg…you always said people don't change."

"They don't."

"But it doesn't seem like you're making Lisa miserable. James seems to think that you're both pretty happy together."

"I'm still an asshole. Cuddy looks for that in a man, so it works. She needs someone with an overabundance of backbone and the never-ending desire to challenge her. She likes the conflict."

Stacy smiled and shook her head, "That's your story?"

"Yup."

"And your little girl?"

"Rachel."

"I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I."

"She's adorable."

"She has a knack for poker," he said, sounding a bit proud, "and she's not bad on the piano already. We have another year on her lease…then we'll decide if we want to purchase or get a new one."

"Are you happy, Greg?" she asked with tender accusation.

"I'm misanthropistically forbidden from saying that. It's in the fine print."

She chuckled again, still always graceful, "Are you completely miserable without a hope in the world?"

He nodded, a half smile on his face, "Completely."

"I am happy for you, and Lisa too. I always hoped she'd meet a guy." She stood to leave, "I love Mark. I like my life. You're right, I think it was best for everyone involved. But part of me will always wish it would have been me."

"I'm sorry," he said to her, watching her face blanch with surprise at his words.

He packed so much into that little apology, and she knew well enough to understand the itemized list that went with it.

"So am I," she answered.

She approached and leaned down, giving the slightest, softest, scantest kiss on his cheek before she went to the door.

"Greg?" she asked right before she left. "I'm going to have a bite to eat with Lisa. Do you mind?"

"Nope. I'm going to go pretend that I don't know that Chase is planning a surprise bachelor party that is supposed to surpass all of the ones I've thrown."

"I wish you both only the best. I hope I didn't upset anyone by stopping by."

House shook his head, "You didn't."

House was supposed to think he and Wilson were going out for a night at a strip club. He knew his fellows wouldn't miss this opportunity. Plus their repeated attempts to act bored every time he entered the room were pretty decent indicators that they were planning something. Chase had no intention of allowing the end of House's life as a single man to go under-acknowledged. Chase, Foreman, Taub and Thirteen collaborated, counting on Wilson to deliver the victim. The party was impressive. They'd listened to House brag about his bachelor party skills before, and there was competition in the air.

House would have preferred going out though. This party was a reminder of the last party he'd thrown. He was reminded of the party he'd planned for Chase, about the turns it had taken, and about the extent of the madness and pain he had been in at that time. Ironically enough, he found himself hiding in the bathroom at one point, scanning the room occasionally to be sure that visions of Amber were nowhere to be found. He wasn't plagued by madness or visions, but there was one recurring thought he couldn't clear from his head.

About two hours into the party, House was definitely less intoxicated than most of those around him. Most of the guys had their face glued to one stripper or another, so it was easy for him to slip out the side door. He called a taxi.

Cuddy was in the bathtub when he came home. She was listening to music, her eyes closed as she soaked. House stood in the doorway while she sang along with the music he couldn't hear. Her eyes popped open when she realized he was standing in the bathroom.

She pulled the headphones from her ears. "Did I fall asleep? What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"Why are you home already, looking a lot more sober than I'd expected?"

"I'm going back. Do you get in that tub every time I leave home?"

"If you're gone and Rachel's asleep? It happens pretty often."

"Why wait until I'm gone?" he asked, getting down on the floor and peeking into the water.

"Because if you're home, you come in. In those cases, one thing often leads to another. Which is fine, but I'm tense, you weren't here, and a soak seemed like a pretty good idea."

"You didn't give me a single rule or warning about this party tonight," he said, getting to the point of his visit.

"You have a fantastic memory, and we've talked strippers and rules before. You know what they are without me reminding you. Go have fun."

"Here's what I don't get. You seemed completely unconcerned about the strippers."

"That's because I'm not concerned. Stare at naked dancing girls then come home. It isn't like you're doing this daily. You trusted me, I'm returning the favor."

"And then there's Stacy."

"And then there's Stacy. She came for dinner. She's sweet. She didn't say anything incriminating. She's also still…very much in love with you."

"She said that…to you."

"No. But I know that look. I used to see that look in the mirror. I don't blame her."

"She made you nervous. I'm the one always thinking that something this good can't last, and you seem completely confident. You aren't worried about strippers, or that woman in the clinic who seemed particularly interested in being treated by a very overqualified diagnostician, but Stacy is in my office for a few minutes and you suddenly seem like the one who is worried."

"Maybe I was a little concerned. Strippers and eager clinic patients are temptations of a specifically sexual nature. Sexually, you're already happy. At least I think you are. With Stacy, there is love and history. If you wouldn't have had your infarction…maybe you never would have broken up. She'd leave her husband for you, I really do believe that." Things felt too serious, so she turned and leered at him like he would have done to her, and she said, "I completely understand her interest in you…I've had a piece of that."

He ignored her attempt to lighten the conversation, saying, "I've put a lot of thought into this. All relationships have potential weak spots. You saw Stacy today, and you saw a potential weak spot."

"I think I know how you felt about her. Now you're clean, almost three years, and you'd be able to pursue a relationship with her if you wanted. You didn't have that opportunity before because she wasn't around after you left Mayfield. Circumstances have changed."

"If there was anyone I would leave you for…I wouldn't be marrying you. I don't make many promises, but that's pretty much what vows are. I'm not going to promise love and fidelity unless someone else comes along. If I wanted to do that, we could have just lived together and kept looking for other options."

Cuddy absorbed the intensity of what he had said, because it was a beautiful sentiment that made the weighty promises of marriage somehow heavier. He started to leave, content that he had made his thoughts perfectly clear, and then something stopped him. Staring at the bathroom door, he said, "People carry these secrets, they create stories and they lie to keep their relationships because they don't want to lose them. They walk around, knowing that if the other person finds out about these secrets..." He turned back to the tub, his face suddenly very somber, and he said, "Some part of your mind thought that Stacy coming back could be a deal breaker."

He sat back down next the tub, slowly, full of thought and what seemed like intense worry. "I need to tell you something."

"What happened?"

"Listen to me, the whole way through, before reacting."

"God, House, what the hell happened?"

"Are you going to hear me out?"

"Fine," she answered testily. Her worry about the nature of his confession was evident.

"I relapsed."

"Today?" she blurted out before she put her hands up and gestured for him to continue. "What happened?"

"You talk about how much time I have clean, and you're wrong. I've never lied to you about it, I just didn't correct your assumption."

"When?" she asked, tucking her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on one knee.

"You and I went out one of the times I sent Lucas away. Things went really well, it felt like…a date. I took you home, walked you in, and we stood in your hallway for over an hour, talking but barely talking. You hugged me, and when you pulled away, you kept staring. I thought something had changed. Then it didn't. You remembered that you were with someone else and then you gave me a peck on the cheek and sent me home. I figured it was futile. I was fighting for something I'd never have. The next day, my leg hurt so much it was almost unbearable. I was working in the clinic, treating some woman with a list of complaints a mile long. I sent her out of the room to give a urine sample, and her purse was there and fell off the table. A fucking bottle of Vicodin hit the floor and rolled right over to me. It was just…there. I didn't really think about it. I didn't think about what it meant or what might happen next. I knew I hurt. I knew I didn't have much time before she'd come back, so I picked it up, grabbed one pill, swallowed it and tossed the rest of the bottle back down on the floor. I left it for her pick up and complained about the mess."

He didn't look at her, he was speaking in an even, calm voice, like he needed to explain this, but certainly didn't want to recall the memories. He rubbed his forehead nervously and continued, "I never lied to you about it."

Cuddy was staring down at the water, she didn't say anything for a few minutes. She still regretted her relationship with Lucas, and the pain it had caused House.

"You want me to go?" he asked, bracing for the answer.

She shook her head no and looked at his pained expression before she said, "I want to ask something."

"OK."

"Have you taken any since then?"

"No."

"You were able to stop?"

"I went to my shrink and told him I wanted to check in to the loony bin. He said I needed to figure out how to handle things outside of the loony bin…not in it. Made me realize I had to be ready for bottles of Vicodin to roll by, literally and metaphorically."

"What happens if a bottle rolls by right now?"

"Most days I would kick it across the floor and still complain to the patient about the mess. If I was tempted, I would get the fuck out of there. That would be my initial reaction. Separate myself from it until I had time to think. When things are OK, when I'm not in that much pain, it's easier."

"Things don't always go well."

"They don't. But I stick with my shrink, I do what I need to do. If I'm having a bad day, I do what I have to do to not fuck up. I know what's on the line. Two weeks after that happened…I was teaching you how to play the organ. Made the decision to stay clean seem like the obvious choice."

He reached up and wiped a drip of water from the side of her face, pulling his hand back when he wasn't sure how she would react to his touch. He'd become so used to being able to touch her that the thought of such contact being prohibited seemed foreign. He wanted to push her for an answer, he wanted her to tell him where he stood. Instead she splashed water on her face while she processed the information.

"I wish you would have told me. I know you didn't lie, and we weren't together yet, so it isn't like you were obligated. But you should have told me."

"I just did tell you. I wasn't going to."

"Why did you?"

"I realized that part of you thought that Stacy could show up and I'd leave. But now you don't have to worry about that. Then I realized I had this relapse hanging over my head. I don't want it hanging over my head. And we're supposed to get married in a few days, and we should both do that…knowing exactly what we're signing up for."

"You thought I'd leave?"

"You thought I'd leave for Stacy. It's not that different."

"I thought it was possible that you would."

"And I thought it was possible that you'd leave over my relapse."

"I need you to be honest with me about things like that."

"And I was. Do you think that was easy to tell you? I'm essentially giving you a free pass to walk out the door."

"No. I don't think it was easy. I think it was probably very difficult. I wish…you could have come to me with that sooner, that you would have trusted me with that. I could have helped you."

"Like you came to me with that bullshit fear that I'd leave you for Stacy?"

"I didn't want to give you the impression that I didn't trust you. I also didn't want to act jealous or insecure."

"And I didn't want to come off as an addict on the verge of relapse. Sometimes, the truth is ugly."

She ran hot water to warm the tub. "You better get going. You're missing your own bachelor party. In a few days you won't have this wild, single lifestyle anymore."

When she carried on as if nothing had changed, his sense of relief was so real it was almost tangible.

"We're good?" he asked, hopefully.

"I'm not going to let something that happened before we got together negate everything that's happened since. I like what's happened since."

He started to stand and she hooked her finger in the collar of his tee shirt. "We count on you," she whispered.

"I know."

"Count on us too."

He nodded, preparing to leave when something stopped him. "It's my bachelor party. Soon, when I happen to stumble upon women bathing, I'll have to ignore them in favor of my wife."

"Do you often stumble upon women bathing?"

"Constantly. I was just thinking," he said as he helped her hook her finger on the collar of his tee shirt again, "that maybe you could help me celebrate the ending of an era."

He pulled Cuddy out of the tub, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down onto the floor with him.

When he returned to his party, Wilson stumbled up to him. "Where were you?"

"Umm…at my bachelor party."

"Did you…is that the shirt you had on earlier?"

"You think I brought a change of clothes?"

"No, I just…"

"Wilson, you are completely wasted."

"Damn right I am. I'm celebrating. My best friend is getting married. Come on, you need a drink, your overall sobriety is making my drunkenness seem excessive."

That night, when House came home from his bachelor party for the second time, the porch light was still on for him. Cuddy was lying in bed, still wearing her ring. When he got into bed, she automatically curled into place around him.

A few days later, they were on an airplane. Rachel and Arlene were sitting in the row in from them, and Wilson and Deb were sitting across the aisle. House looked back through the rows, seeing a number of familiar faces, and shook his head with disbelief, "I thought one of the benefits of having a 'destination wedding' was that fewer people would show up because of the inconvenience and cost of travel."

"I don't think this is what most people would consider a destination wedding," she answered.

"We're going to a place away from home in order to get married. Seems to meet the criteria to me."

"Why wouldn't you want to celebrate this event with all of your friends and family around you?" Arlene said, peering over her seat. "Are you hiding something?"

"As long as you're here, I'm happy," House jabbed.

"And why haven't I seen your dress?" Arlene asked her daughter.

"You're going to love it," Cuddy answered.

"You definitely will," House elaborated. "It's black and red, and, because Cuddy cares so much about the environment, it's made out of only one square foot of fabric."

"You let him see your dress, but you didn't show it to your own mother?" Arlene asked.

"He didn't see it," Cuddy explained. "And it is not red."

"I hope you found something that looks good on you."

"I loved it. Julia loved it. You'll like it, Mom."

"Remember your cousin's wedding? Poor Janice probably thought that dress looked good."

House whispered loudly to Cuddy so Arlene could hear, "Maybe we should have selected a more remote destination."

"I'm a little surprised about how many people are coming," Cuddy answered.

"You should be grateful your friends are so supportive of you," Arlene advised.

"Are you kidding?" House scoffed. "They're not coming to be supportive, they're hoping for a show. Not only are they betting against us getting married, they're actually betting on the exact reason why we won't."

The bell dinged and a rehearsed voice asked all passengers to fasten their seatbelts and prepare for landing. "When is Greg's mother arriving?" Arlene asked.

"She's already here. She's meeting us at the airport," Cuddy answered.

"I've been looking forward to this. We have a lot to talk about."

"You'll never turn her against me," House argued. He looked out the window at the ground below, "God, I hate it here."

"Of course," Cuddy answered, "you chose the venue. And who wouldn't want to get married in a place that they hate?"