Nooow it's done!

I wasn't really happy about last chapter being the last. Now it's complete. =) Hope you enjoy!

Couldn't have done it without Aly's help!

As always, thank you for reading it and for the kind reviews!


Six months later

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Amber and no, I'm not dead. Hallucinations don't die. Although I think in a way I kind of did. But never mind. All you need to know is that I was sent on my way when I was no longer needed by countless bottles of Haloperidol - an army to defeat me. They succeeded. I'm here to tell you what happened after House went back to PPTH.

It was on October, 29th that Lisa Cuddy got a call from Dr. Nolan, saying House was being released. And, as of that moment, her life was turned upside down.

"No. No… Not this one... Definitely not. Crap! I'm late!"

"Mommy, mommy, mommy." Her one year old wanted attention so early in the morning

"Where are you, sweetie?"

When you have a one year old at home you need to be prepared to play hide and seek anytime of day. Or any other game for that matter.

"Rachel, where are you?"

Cuddy could hear her giggling. Then saw a pile of clothes moving on the bed and her cute little head appearing in the middle of it.

"Are you packing to go somewhere?" Little Rachel asked.

"No, sweetie, I'm just trying to figure out what to wear. Want to help mommy out?" She asked, realizing that she had buried her daughter under a pile of clothes. Nervous didn't even begin to cover how she was feeling that morning.

Lisa Cuddy spent the whole day looking at her office doors. She had offered to pick House up from Mayfield as Wilson was out of town in a conference, but he had refused. She hadn't even talked directly to him. The doctor who had called to tell her he'd be released said she shouldn't worry because everything was taken care of.

So she waited… and waited… then waited a little more. And felt stupid every time she looked at the door, every time she retouched her makeup. Every time she looked at the clock.

She stayed at the hospital for as long as she could. When guilt took over, she went home to her child.

She laid in bed awake for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Had House gone home? Why hadn't he returned to the hospital? Those six months he had spent away had been hard on her but, as time passed, life adjusted itself, and it sure were easier on her job and her life not to have him around. Easier, but no fun at all. If it weren't for Rachel, it would be an empty life.

The truth was she tried desperately not to think about him, not to get ahead of herself and start speculating what would happen after he came back. Had those six months erased the power of her discovery about the past? Of the things she had said to him?

Like a good obsessive woman, when Lisa Cuddy didn't know what to do, she started speculating, trying really hard to prepare herself for all kinds of possibilities that might come her way. It was highly neurotic and emotionally exhausting.

But that's when she usually got the courage to do things, like show up at House's doorstep unannounced just to ease her anxiety and calm her heart.

Tammy was thrilled to get a call from her so late at night. With House gone, she never got to put in extra hours, money was short.

11:00

There was one nervous and hopeful Lisa Cuddy at House's doorstep trying to decide whether she should knock, ring the bell or call him from her cell phone. She didn't want to intrude, except she did. That's why she was there.

Before she could decide, he opened the door unaware of her presence up until that point.

There he was. He looked older, although it had only been six months. He looked different, his expression was lighter, but the same deep stare from his icy-blue eyes assured her that he was in there.

There she was. Same face, same body. Was it possible that she was even more beautiful than he remembered? The sudden fear that she wouldn't be as loving as he remembered made him take a step back.

"Is that your way of saying I should come in?" She said.

He was nervous. She was invading his personal space. She was already in, didn't even wait for his answer.

He needed time to prepare himself to go back to his old life, that's why he didn't go straight to the hospital that day. He was scared of what he would find.

She was nervous. Her fear was that he'd be ashamed of what happened, ashamed of the vulnerability he showed her when he told her he was not okay; scared of the secrets that were revealed that very morning in his room at Mayfield. Secrets about their past that lingered in her memory for those six months with only one word wrapping them: why?

She was scared for her as well, the words she said to him in his room that morning never stopped replaying in her head. She had actually put her heart inside that envelope with the letter and told him he could do whatever he wanted with it. And she did it knowing she would have to spend six months waiting for any kind of response. It wasn't like he had any decision to make, she didn't propose anything. She was just scared what it would do to their relationship.

"How have you been?" She asked, trying to sound casual. It sounded ridiculous, though.

"Oh, just terrific! You should try spending some time there, it's so relaxing…"

He indeed was back.

She said nothing, she was out of practice. Didn't know how to engage in those talking games with House anymore.

"How did you manage to keep your hospital together without your top diagnostician?"

She wanted to say it had been the worst six months of her life. She couldn't.

"I gave our head of the Legal Department a couple of weeks off."

She was back too.

"I'm serious, House. How was it?" She was actually caring.

"It was hell." His expression turned serious. His face couldn't hide the sadness.

Her heart was cut in half. It brought back the memory of those six months hating herself for not being able to help him. That was death to her.

"I'm sorry you had to go through it alone," she said, guilt taking over her.

"I wasn't alone."

"Amber doesn't count." Oh, now I don't count, but if it weren't for me he'd never have gotten out of that damn bus and might still be in a coma until today. That bitch never liked me anyway.

"Oh, I'm not talking about her."

House knew how to play hard to get when he wanted to. She was trying to apologize and he just wouldn't let her.

"All I'm saying is I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. Sorry I couldn't see what was going on before and sorry I couldn't see you through your treatment at Mayfield. They wouldn't let us visit and…"

"You were there for me." In more ways than you could imagine, he wanted to say. Never did. I think I taught him a few things about those kinds of confessions.

She did know what he meant but was afraid to ask more.

They were testing the boundaries of their relationship. Slowly stepping towards each other and back, trying to understand where they were at. It was a nice conversation, filled with underlying meaning to all of it. He told her about those six months, mostly the fun parts, people he met, pranks he played, white lies he told the doctors. She pretended to be only listening. Her ears were, but her mind was racing, trying to savor that moment. He was there talking to her. He was vicodin free and a lot healthier.

The most significant things that happened during that night happened inside their heads and hearts. They never talked about them, the past or the future. Only took their time to enjoy each other's presence after so long, knowing that next morning things would be back to the way they had always been.

"I should go." She said smiling peacefully, mentally gathering the pieces of her heart that were scattered all through his apartment to go home.

"You shouldn't."

"I… want to go then."

"No, you don't."

She said nothing.

"Come on, you know you missed me." She knew.

"I can't stay here, House. I can't sleep in these."

"I think I have something that suits you."

"I'm not sleeping in one of your shirts." She knew she wouldn't be able to shut her eyes smelling him all around her.

"Did I say that?"

"Well, then I'm not sleeping in one of your hooker's outfits."

"So that means you are staying?"

"I…"

"I'll be right back," he said disappearing into the hallway and leaving her confused.

When he came back he tossed a piece of cloth at her.

"You can sleep in that. I think it still fits you." And there it was. Her heart in the form of a shirt that he had kept hidden in his drawer for twenty years.

"I spent months looking for this!"

"Thank God I stole a shirt. Had it been a pair of pants, you wouldn't be able to wear it now giving how huge your ass has…"

"Give it a rest, House."

"Come on, you haven't heard one clever remark about your ass in six months!"

She rolled her eyes at him. It irritated her that he knew she actually had missed him staring at and talking about her ass. She had missed him every day. There were not enough shoe stores in New Jersey to help her through it.

She didn't show it.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, Wilson is too much of a gentleman to do it. Chase would lose his balls if he did, you have no idea how jealous Cameron is. Taub is not tall enough to look at your tush from the best angle. I know Foreman always wanted to be like me, but I think 13 would be a safer bet. But she wouldn't do it in public. Let's see, maybe in your office…" He was imagining it now. That was actually my favorite side of his personality.

She paused for a moment.

"Oh, that reminds me… I hired that private investigator of yours to help me on some business…"

"Seriously?"

"Yes." She had a smirk on her face.

"Seriously?"

"No, House!" She rolled her eyes again.

She could see his expression relax.

"That's really a 'no' then."

"Yes."

"Yes, it's a 'no' or yes, yes?"

"Dear God, lighten up, will you? No one has been talking about my ass ok? And don't try to change the subject. Why are you giving me this shirt now?"

"Well, doctor said I needed to get rid of some old things. Since I can't get rid of you, because I'd be out of a job, the shirt will have to do."

Oddly enough, either the remarks were about her ass, her breasts, her age or her skills as a doctor, she really liked them. It was all foreplay.

"Care to explain how my shirt got into your closet in the first place?"

"Haven't you figured that out by now? I snuck into your dorm on my last night at Michigan. I wanted to kidnap you, but you were sleeping so soundly I decided to take the shirt instead."

"That's when you found…"

"The letter."

"Thief," she fired.

"Coward," he fired back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You never gave me the letter!"

"You were never supposed to read it."

"I believed it had my name on it and I'm quite sure I was the only Greg who's name you screamed the night before, but you never know…"

"Don't be so sure." She said with a smirk.

"Whore."

"Lunatic."

They both sighed.

"It's good to have you back." She said finally.

"You mean because now I can get back to work and make your hospital worth something?"

"It's good to have you back."

"You mean because now you finally have someone to stare at your ass again?" He was pushing it. Like he always had been. Looking for proof that she indeed cared for him. Never considering himself worthy of it.

"It's good to have you back. Deal with it."

She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Then left him there to dream about her while she would go home to dream about him, this time happier because next morning he'd be there to brighten up her day.

House watched her leave, his favorite thing on earth moving from side to side and he went back inside a little more confident to face the journey ahead of him.

He paused by a small mirror next to the door and saw her lipstick stain on his cheek. Again. Only this time it was real. This time he felt it.