A/N: I looked back and realised I accidentally stole part of this from an episode of the actual show. So sorry that a portion of this premise has been done before (albeit in quite a different way), I didn't borrow the idea consciously. Also Hikari of the Moon wanted me to give House a hug.

7.12—"Ailments and Apologies"

House was sitting on the couch in the condo. Wilson was on top of him, kissing him. House's fingers combed through Wilson's hair, and Wilson pulled back.

"Feel better?" he panted.

"Not yet," House responded, also breathing heavily. "You're gonna have to try again."

Wilson leaned forward obediently, and their lips were millimetres apart when they heard a knock on the door. Wilson groaned and deflated.

"Ignore it," House suggested, leaning forward.

"No, no," Wilson said, sighing and getting up. "I'll go deal with it, and then we'll...resume this."

"Spoilsport," House called after him.

Wilson opened the front door. Cuddy was standing there. He closed it again.

"Wilson, wait," she said, pushing back on the door to keep it open. "I'm here to apologise. Please, hear me out."

"Yeah, because that worked so well last time," Wilson said sarcastically.

"I mean it, Wilson, please, just give me five minutes, and then I promise I'll go."

Wilson sighed and opened the door.

"Oh, come on," House complained, getting up from the couch. "You're gonna interrupt sex for her?"

"We weren't...having sex," Wilson said, lowering his voice as if he didn't want Cuddy to hear about such indecent things. As if she hadn't witnessed them firsthand when she was spying on them.

"Yet," House grumbled.

"If I was...interrupting something..." Cuddy said, looking back and forth from Wilson to House, "...I could always come back later..."

"You could come back in the year 2056," House suggested.

"House," Wilson said in a warning tone. Then he turned to Cuddy. "Lisa, just say what you have to say. We're listening."

"I'm sorry," Cuddy said, looking from House to Wilson and trying to catch their eyes. House was looking at the floor. "I really...I have no excuse for the things I did, I don't know why I was so desperate to break you up, but I was wrong and I'm sorry. Wilson, I shouldn't have hired Monica to try and get you to cheat with her. House, I shouldn't have fired you because Wilson resigned. I shouldn't have mocked you. I shouldn't have hired Stacy to try and hurt you. It was childish, and it was a mistake. All of it."

"Your lawyer advise you to say that?" House snapped, glaring at her. "We dropped the lawsuit, remember? I don't care anymore."

"I'm not apologising to help my case," Cuddy said, looking at him. "Stacy left after I told her the real reason I hired her. And I'm offering you your job back."

"I don't want it–" House started, but Wilson put out his arm and shook his head and he shut up.

"I hope you reconsider," Cuddy said, still looking at House. "It's going to be my final act as Dean of Medicine. I'm going to resign this afternoon."

"What?" Wilson said, staring at her. "You're resigning? Lisa, why?–"

"It's obvious I've been having problems with my judgement lately," Cuddy admitted, her gaze flickering to the floor before returning to Wilson. "I've been making big decisions affecting other people's lives—not just yours, but Monica's and Foreman's as well—based on whims. Based on my own agenda, what I want, not what's best for the hospital. I can't trust myself. I need to get away for awhile. I'm taking Rachel and–"

Cuddy's words were cut off. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the floor, collapsing in a heap.

[the startup music plays...]

A machine gave off beeping noises at regular intervals. Right. But why was she at the hospital? She was going to apologise to House and Wilson...tell them she was resigning...and then resign...she would call the board to do that...they'd meet in a conference room, not a patient room...so why was there a heart monitor?

Cuddy opened her eyes. She was in a hospital bed, and the monitor was attached to her. She sat up and looked around. Wilson was there, he was sitting in a chair near her bed.

"James?" she said groggily, putting her hand to her head. It hurt. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Wilson said, sighing. "House and I couldn't revive you, so we called an ambulance. They're running tests now."

"Am I okay?" she asked, reaching for her chart.

"You're stable. They're keeping you hydrated and under observation until the tests come back. Since they couldn't wake you up for a history, you're getting the VIP treatment, testing for whatever they can. I should call the nurse, tell her you're up so they can get a history."

He got up to do that, but Cuddy called him back. "Wilson."

At the door he turned around. "What?"

Cuddy cleared her throat. "Where's House?"

"At home," Wilson answered, looking her over. "You've been out for about four hours. He didn't want to stay."

[]

Wilson himself didn't stay long after she woke up, and he didn't say whether he'd be back tomorrow. Cuddy felt better, she wanted to leave, but since they didn't know what was wrong with her yet, they were keeping her overnight for observation.

Cuddy imagined she had an unusual but curable disease with a rare presentation that no one in the hospital could figure out, so then they called House back in...but that wouldn't happen. He didn't work here anymore. He didn't want to work here anymore. Not for her. Cuddy realised she'd never finished their conversation in the condo. Would House want his job back now that Cuddy was resigning? She supposed it didn't matter anymore, at least not to her. He hated her, he never wanted to see her again. And she couldn't quite blame him. But she'd done everything she could—apologised, offered him his job back, and taken responsibility for her actions. The ball was in his court now.

She was flipping channels on the TV when Foreman came in.

"Hey," she said, sitting up in bed and smiling at him. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Working on your case," Foreman answered.

"I'm a case now?"

"Not anymore," Foreman said, shrugging. "We solved you. STD panel got a hit. It's neurosyphilis. Chase is getting your meds now."

"Syphilis?" Cuddy repeated, looking at him. "I've got syphilis? For god's sake, I'm a doctor. How could I have syphilis and not know about it?"

"Sometimes it doesn't present with obvious symptoms," Foreman said, shrugging. "You'll need injections for the next two weeks, and follow-ups, but you should be fine."

"I don't believe it," Cuddy said, shaking her head.

"Also, you'll want to contact any sexual partners you've had in the last...well, since it's progressed to neurosyphilis, you might have been infected for years without realising it. I'd play it safe and call as many people as you can."

Cuddy sighed. "Great. That's the call you want to get from an ex."

"Right," Foreman said. "Well, I'm gonna go. Chase should be in soon with your meds."

[]

Wilson hung up the phone. "That was Cuddy," he informed House.

"Fascinating."

"She wants to see you."

"That makes one of us."

"She's got neurosyphilis."

"I've got a bum leg."

"House, she wants to see you."

House looked at Wilson for a moment. "Wait, I'm confused. Didn't we just have this conversation? Oh yeah, Cuddy wants to see me, I don't want to see her, and since only one of us has control over my actions–"

"–I think you should see her," Wilson said.

House looked Wilson up and down. "You traitor," he said. "You forgave her, didn't you? Damn bleeding heart. She comes crying and apologising, says she'll resign, and then she gets sick on top of it. You just couldn't resist, could you? You actually think she means it this time."

"I do," Wilson said, sitting down next to House. "Greg, when you...when we walked into that room, and Stacy was there...well, it's been a long time since I've soon a look on your face that hurt–"

"–Maybe if you'd been paying attention to me when you were doing Sam–" House muttered under his breath.

"–But what you didn't see was the look on Cuddy's face. She was sorry, House, I could tell. She meant it. She feels really bad about what she did."

"She should. Just because she feels guilty doesn't mean she deserves forgiveness."

"And House, she's got neurosyphilis."

"So what? She's not terminal, is she? I know she's not; if she were you would have said so." Then he took a double-take, and his face got serious. "She's not terminal, is she?"

Wilson cracked a smile. "You see? You still care about her."

"No, I don't. And I assume from your grin she's not gonna die, so there really is no reason for me to see her."

"Except that she's got neurosyphilis," Wilson said, looking House in the eye.

House said nothing.

"Which means..." Wilson continued, nodding and gesturing with his hands.

"She's a...whore?"

Wilson scoffed and slumped back onto the couch.

"What, Wilson?"

"It means that all the crap she's put us through lately may not be her fault. You know as well as I do that neurosyphilis can cause changes in personality. All right, so she was never perfect, but she's never treated us as badly as she has in the last couple of months. Her poor judgement could have been caused by her disease, not by–"

"–her just being a bitch," House completed.

Wilson nodded. "Exactly."

House looked at him with a grim smile. "You really want to believe that, don't you?"

"Of course I do! Don't you?"

House shrugged. "We don't know...for sure. Personality change can accompany neurosyphilis, but that doesn't mean it does. Or maybe the change in personality occurred yesterday when she suddenly decided to apologise for her–"

"–House," Wilson cut him off.

"What?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Wilson leaned over and wrapped his arms around his lover. "I want you to do this," he said softly. "Just talk to her. You don't have to forgive her, you don't have to take your job back, you don't even have to believe the disease is to blame for her recent actions. I just want you to go in there and talk to her. For fifteen minutes. Please. For me."

House sighed and Wilson grinned, giving him a quick peck.

"It won't be so bad," he promised. "Just fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes of hell," House grumbled.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes of sex to make up for it," Wilson promised as he pulled back, finally getting House to smile.

[]

Cuddy woke up and House was suddenly sitting at her bedside. Her first instinct was to gasp and say he scared her, but she forced her face into a smile and said, "Hey."

"Were you really going to resign or was that just a clever ploy to get Wilson and I to forgive you?"

Of course. Why should she even expect him to care how she's doing? "I meant it," Cuddy said. "There's a letter of resignation on my desk. You can check for it. Which I'm guessing you already did."

"It could have been a fake letter," House pointed out.

"Except for the fact that if you still didn't want your job back I was going to come straight here and hand it in. There wouldn't have been time for you to check up on me."

"If I had agreed to take my job back, I would have had to come here at some point, and I would have had plenty of time to find it. Or I could have sent one of my lackeys."

"Like you did with the email?"

House didn't respond.

Cuddy sighed and leaned back on her pillows. "I know I shouldn't have said that. I've been making bad choices. I thought it was the stress getting to me, and that if I took a break from this for awhile, took a vacation, maybe taken a job with fewer responsibilities when I got back, then I'd be okay."

"Wilson thinks it's the syph," House said. "The...poor judgement, the personality change."

"But you don't think so," Cuddy responded, looking at him.

House shrugged. "I don't know if it was a personality change so much as a personality amplification."

"Thank you," Cuddy said sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Wilson's thrilled about it, actually. Forget the part where you got sick and you could have died, now you've got a perfect excuse for being a super bitch and he doesn't have to think twice about forgiving you. The resigning thing itself was just about enough, but add in the neurosyphilis factor and you've got him sold."

"Him, but not you," Cuddy repeated. "As determined as he is that my disease be the cause all my problems, you're positive it was me all along."

"I'm not positive of anything," House contradicted. "There isn't a blood test for personality change. Either you're a person whose disease forced you to make stupid choices or you're a person who made stupid choices who happens to have a disease. There's no way for us to know."

"So you're assuming..."

"I'm not assuming anything. I don't know. I can't know."

"Tell me something," Cuddy said, looking at him. "If you believed it was the disease, really believed it, would you forgive me?"

House didn't look at her. "I don't know," he said finally.

"If you thought it was the disease, would you take your job back?" she tried again.

House shrugged. "If it was the disease, I'd have to take my job back because firing me would have been the disease, not you."

"Will you...come back?" Cuddy asked.

This time he did look at her. He looked at her for a long time. Then he looked at the floor again, inclining his head as he did so. "It doesn't mean I forgive you."

Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief. "You can give it time."

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you. I don't know if it was the disease or just you, but whatever it was..."

"It was unforgivable?" Cuddy supplied.

House shrugged. "Wilson forgave you. But he forgives everyone for everything. I killed his girlfriend but he still lets me touch his naughty parts."

Cuddy gave a weak smile. "You don't need to forgive me, House. It doesn't matter. I have no way of knowing if it's the disease or not. I'm still going to resign."

"No," House said, surprising her.

"What?" Cuddy said. "Why not?"

"You can reinstate me before you quit, but the board will just fire me again. You're the only one who puts up with my crap because you know that's how I cure patients."

"Maybe Wilson could–" Cuddy suggested, but House cut her off.

"–No," he said again. "Wilson would let me do whatever I want. And when he wouldn't, we'd fight. You know when a procedure is necessary to cure the patient and when it's too dangerous. You know when I want to do something cool because I need to and when I just want to do it because I want to. You get me to do most of my clinic hours and you get me to take cases even when I'd rather just sit and watch TV. But when I don't have a case, you let me watch TV because you know that when I'm saving someone's life, that comes first. You..." he sighed and looked at the ground. "I'm still upset with you. I might not ever forgive you. I don't love you. But you...you get me. You get how I work, you know what makes me tick. I need you...to be my boss. Not a lover, not even a friend, but my boss. That's how we operate. You're my boss, and I'm your employee. It's when we try to screw with that relationship that bad things happen. Boss, employee. It's homeostasis. It's what we need to go back to.

"Don't quit, Cuddy. Maybe take a couple weeks off, get your syph treatment, but come back. I'm not the only one who needs you." He got up and started to walk away.

"House," Cuddy said, and he turned toward her. She smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded once and turned around again.

"House," she repeated.

"What?"

"Could you do something for me?"

He stared at her.

She smiled. "Send Foreman in here. I need to talk to him...tell him..."

"I'll do it," House said, and he walked away.

[]

The office door still said 'Gregory House, M.D.' and House wondered if Cuddy had even considered ordering it changed. Foreman looked up when he walked in. "Your stuff's next door in the conference room. Chase plays with the ball sometimes, but only when he's thinking."

"You're taking this well," House observed.

Foreman shrugged.

"Why'd you take the job in the first place if you knew it'd only be temporary?"

"I didn't know. Not until she told me she let you go. When she first suggested it, it sounded more like you were resigning. And there'd been rumours about Wilson, so I figured...I told myself maybe you were just moving or something."

"And you thought that if leaving was my idea there was no way I'd come back? Like all the other times I've left my job and haven't come back?"

"I knew you wouldn't come back unless Wilson came back. I don't know what I thought. I wanted to think that both of you really were leaving, but once Cuddy told me she and the board fired you, I knew it was only a matter of time before she changed her mind." Foreman took a moment to study House. "She loves you. I don't know why, and I guess you don't love her back, but she loves you. She can't get rid of you, she wants you around. She thinks you're the smartest doctor who's ever lived and she just loves putting up with all your crap even when she pretends it drives her nuts. I may be like you in some ways, but I'm not you. You're the one she wants. If she can have you, she will."

"And you're okay with that?" House asked, watching him.

Foreman sighed. "I've accepted it."

House shrugged. "Cool. Well round up the others, I want this place back to normal by the time I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"Finding Wilson. He's gotta come back too, unless you want to start buying me lunch every day."

"I'll pass."

[]

Wilson inspected his Vertigo poster and smiled.

"I still think you should have kept the ones from Feral Pleasures," House decided, stepping in through the balcony door.

"You watch any porno you want and pretend it's me, House, that doesn't make it actually me."

"You forgot to mention everything the wood nymphs taught you about pleasing a man."

"They didn't," Wilson said. "It's a natural talent. No instruction required."

"Care to demonstrate?" House suggested, nodding at Wilson's desk.

"How many times do you want to get fired, House?"

"I don't, I want to prove that we can get away with it."

"We did. We're back. We don't need to do it again."

"You're no fun."

"You have my sincerest apologies."

House didn't say anything else. He sat down on Wilson's couch, rubbing his leg.

Wilson sat next to him. "How is it?"

"The same as it always is, three, maybe four."

"It hasn't been worse than usual?"

"Not today."

Wilson sighed. "Do you think you're gonna forgive her?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. If it was just the syphilis, maybe, but..."

"You don't know," Wilson finished for him.

"We have no way of knowing."

"I know," Wilson said.

"But you forgave her."

"I...believed she was really and truly sorry. I'm giving her a chance. I'm trusting people. You should try it sometime."

"I'm trusting you."

That made Wilson smile. "Does it upset you that I forgave her?" he asked.

"Would it make a difference if it did?"

"Either way, I'd like to know."

House paused. "I guess not," he said eventually. "It's your nature to care, to forgive. It's who you are. And I can't complain about it because if you weren't that way you would have stopped being my friend a long time ago."

Wilson smiled again. He leaned against House on the couch, resting his head on his shoulder.