Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of the characters, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind owning Hugh Laurie!

A/N: Heya guys! So here's another chapter. I know it ends on a slightly (…hem…) sad note, but if its any consolation, I think the next chapter will make you much, much happier :P And I'm going to start writing it right after I post this!

Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, but I've only just got back from the dentist where I had a wisdom tooth taken out (Ouchy) with the help of, oh, about 6 anaesthesias … so I can't really feel half my face and I'm starting to think that that may be affecting my thought process (also I'm having to put way too much concentration into not biting myself, seeing as if I do, I can't feel it, and that's drawing too much of my attention … argh!)

Anyway, I've gotten to 200 reviews, which has a half-smile on my face (of course that is 'half' only due to the fact that I can't really use half of my mouth … but if I could, it would be a full out, incredibly radiant smile … :D)


Enjoy!

But for now, as Cuddy remained lost in her thoughts and Wilson studied House's face, he figured he was safe. The diagnostician was fighting himself. Maybe House would be able to convince himself of what he needed. Maybe.

"So Cuddy …" spoke Wilson turning the subject to something that a. interested them all, b. involved two of them more than they'd care to admit and, c. gave him a chance to evaluate the feelings between the two "do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?" he asked

Wilson had to stop himself from laughing when, inconspicuously, Cuddy shifted him her seat and House's eyes shot up to him. Oh, this was going to be good.

"Uh, actually I don't think I want to find out …" she said not sure where exactly to look. She knew there was no way House knew, but she still felt like his eyes were drilling into the side of her scull.

"Oh, really?" asked Wilson chancing a glance at House who simply glared at him, hating that he had brought the subject up.

Cuddy had been thinking about it. Her doctor had told her that if she wanted to know, he could tell her. But she had opted not to. It wasn't that she didn't want to know, she really did. But the fear of everything that could still go wrong was overwhelming. She didn't want to start referring to it as he or she, she didn't want to come up with names and get even more attached than she already was. Not when she knew things weren't certain.

Though, she had to admit, it was very difficult to lie there, perfectly capable of turning her head to the screen and reading the image and not do so.

"No, I'd rather be surprised" she said. It wasn't a total lie. It just wasn't the main reason why she didn't want to know.

House, in turn, was now rushing through all the different scenarios. Well, the two different scenarios, really. A little boy. He liked the thought of it. Or a little girl. One that looked exactly like her mother. Breaking hearts and making misanthropic, heartless men fall to their knees. He really liked the thought of it.

"Don't you have preference?" Wilson asked her as he looked at House, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Well, no not really" replied Cuddy. She really didn't. Though the thought of a little boy with House's piercing blue eyes had always rather pleased her.

Wilson looked from one to the other, taking his turn to picture what their child would look like. Truth be told, he figured that the kid would be safe. After all, you can't really go wrong when the only eye colours you can really have are grey-blue or ocean-blue and the amount of intelligence you could inherit from your parents, even if you only got half of it, is superior to most other people.

Wilson sighed and leaned back in his seat "What do you think?" he asked, a devilish smile on his face "Baby girl or baby boy, House?"

Wilson's question had been meant to throw him. And it had. Baby girl House. Baby boy House. House. Him. His. Baby. The words spun around in his brain and Wilson could swear he saw a small smile creep on his friend's lips.

"Hm …" he said looking at Cuddy, pretending to examine her from head to toe "boy" he replied "the world couldn't handle another one of these" he pointed at Cuddy as both she and Wilson figured that what the world wasn't ready to handle was a little House running around.

Wilson looked at Cuddy with a knowing face and she hid a smile.

With House now joining in the conversation, things became much less awkward. The three chatted as old friends do, exchanging jokes, some dripping with meaning, others just light and funny.

House hated to admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself. All his quips at Wilson, about him having enough wives for the three of them. Followed by all his jokes about Cuddy and one of Wilson's wives, jokes that filled his head with absolutely unnecessary images of Cuddy, something he was sure at least Wilson had caught on to. It felt good to be happy, or at least as happy as Greg House can be. He realised, with a start, that he'd barely taken a Vicodin in the past two hours.

As all three sighed after a particularly funny joke from Wilson, there was a 'bip, bip bip' from House's waist band, and all three looked in its direction.

"Foreman" he informed them clipping the pager off his belt.

Standing up with the help of his cane, House nodded towards the phone and headed towards it, registering the increasing pain in his leg as he walked further out of the room and closer to a connection to his work.

"What do you want?" he growled into the phone a few second Slater when Foreman answered.

"We have a patient, 36 years old, looks autoimmune, we need to run some more tests, but …" replied Foreman

"Well then run your bloody tests and leave me alone …" said House angrily. He knew it was quite uncharacteristic of him to sound so unhappy at getting a puzzling case, but he really wasn't happy. He'd been doing good, he'd stayed and he had every intention of staying as long as possible. But it wouldn't work. Not when he felt like a dog with a large piece of raw meat being dangled above his head.

"but …" continued Foreman as if he hadn't been interrupted "the ones we've ran so far point to, uh, Lupus"

And House was there again, at his full force, beating Greg back into his corner and focusing on the puzzle. And suddenly his leg hurt like hell again. He need Vicodin. He really did.

In the living room, Wilson saw Cuddy's disappointment as she saw him dry-swallow two Vicodin and limp towards them with a determined, focused expression.

"Got a case" said the diagnostician not looking at Cuddy. House just wouldn't let him do it, damn that guy.

Cuddy nodded, allowing professionalism to hide her disappointment and hurt "you should go then" she said.

Without another word, House headed out and limped, in as quick a stride as he could, to his motorcycle.

Within seconds of him leaving, Wilson and Cuddy heard the shudder of the motorcycle starting and the 'whoosh' as he sped off.

Wilson had said that he had no intention of letting House leave. But something else that he had no intention of doing, was fighting House. Because, even without a thigh muscle, he was sure that the diagnostician, when pumped full of puzzle-induced adrenaline, could kick his ass.

But Cuddy's face was breaking his heart. She looked crushed, her eyes glistening. He knew she didn't want to let it show, but him going there had meant a lot to her. And him leaving, had had the same effect as giving a five year old a stick of candy, and promptly taking it away.

"Why don't you just tell him?" he asked frustrated.

"What? So he can walk away just like he did now? Wilson, he's only interested while he's got nothing better to focus on."

"Cuddy, you've known him for longer than I have. Have you ever seen him fight off the urge to go prove Lupus wrong as hard as he did today?" he asked her, leaning forwards, his elbows on his knees and his hands touching "Cuddy, you know he cares"

She nodded "I thought he did. Coming here, the …" she stopped herself, she wasn't going to mention the kiss, she wasn't going to turn something that had meant so much to her into something to be analysed and poked around in the mess of a relationship they had. No, they had silently agreed to not mention it, and she was fine with it "… It seemed like he might, I thought you might have been right … but …" she looked towards the door, a tear falling down her cheek. She sighed "I'm really tired …"

Wilson realised that there was no point arguing this with her, it wasn't her fault that House was a jack ass, and there was no real point in persuading her that he did love her without first ensuring that he was ready to act on it. Because if she finally believed it and he stepped back, it would be only slightly less cruel than torturing her; and Wilson couldn't do that to his friend.

"Come on, I'll help you to the bed room" he said standing and offering her his hand.

"Thanks" she whispered as she took it and allowed him to walk her to her bed.

Once she was safely lying on her side of the bed, he smiled and bid her a goodnight before promising to lock the door and leaving.

Now totally alone, Cuddy's mind raced. She could hear the low whistle of wind blowing through the glass House had broken; she could smell his scent on her clothes and her sheets where he'd been sitting. She missed him. So much. She knew it was asking too much for him to stay. He wouldn't have. But she wanted him to. She really, really wanted him to.

And as she thought of House and tears fell down her cheeks, Cuddy sighed and drifted off to sleep. At least in her dreams it didn't hurt as bad. At least there the baby's kicks were more of a comfort than a reminder of the man she loved, wanted and couldn't have.

TBC

Ok, so when I said 'slightly sad note', I meant incredibly depressing and frustrating. But as I said, rest assured that the next chappie brings in some sweet Huddyness … I hope (I know, I'm so evil)

Thank you for reading!

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CJS-DEPPendent